


The Last Storm

by Sereven



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-22 04:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereven/pseuds/Sereven
Summary: There is hardly ever a quiet moment in her life. Even after fighting in the civil war and ending the threat of Alduin, peace would not come to her. After a drunken night of revelry, the Dragonborn finds herself in a far away land, in the midst of Sanguines schemes. But what to do when a Deadra replaces a princess with a belligerent battlemage? - AU Dragonborn as Argella Durrandon, last princess of the Stormlands





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a little idea that continued to haunt me. How would the world of Ice and Fire change by the presence of a Dragonborn, one who can actually summon a dragon of her own if need be.
> 
> Truth be told, I am not quite sure where this story might lead, but I thought it would be good to share the story here. More chapters will follow this prolog soon.

She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. She wasn't even sure who was to blame for it, but one thing was for sure, it was either the fault of a Deadra or a Khajiit. Oh well, maybe she wasn't entirely fair with that assumption, the Daedra just did what their nature dictates them to do, the damn cats on the other hand only had one purpose in the world, to annoy everyone and cause trouble.

But as she sat there, in this fancy room, looking at herself in a mirror, she marveled at her own sight for some long moments. It was definitely her face that staring back at her, though it was… younger. And neither burned by the sun nor cut open by some random Draugr or another monster that had managed to sneak up on her. She looked at least a decade younger, if not more. And even the ghastly scar, which had decorated her left cheek, was gone now. There wasn't even a trace left of it.

She looked around the room for any clues that might give her the answers her mind demanded at that very moment. But she found none. The room was lavishly decorated, the color scheme mainly following the colors black and gold. The last time she had seen this much of those two colors, she had been in Bruma, briefly before her ill-fated attempt to enter Skyrim. But this couldn't be Bruma. At this time of the year, the weather there was harsh and unforgiving. There was none of the winter's iron grip here.

But as she continued to look around, she began to frown deeply. There was no sight of her weapons or her armor. Neither could she see any of her other possessions. Even the dress she was wearing at that very moment, though very pretty and flattering on her, was not the kind of clothing she would have worn. She looked more like some nobleman's dainty daughter, rather than the imperial legate and battlemage she had been for the past few years.

"If Rikke ever sees me like this I will be the laughing stock of the whole legion," she muttered, "I can hardly move enough to fight in this outfit."

Much to her growing aggravation, none of the wardrobes yielded any different clothing. The only thing remotely useful was a riding outfit complete with leather breaches. It wasn't much and by the style of it, it had been designed to look nice and not for combat purposes. But for the moment, it would have to do.

She quickly changed her clothes, relishing in the increased mobility she finally had. But that did not change the fact that she was still unarmed. Not the best way to be in an unknown place.

She moved towards one of the windows, to see the land outside. Maybe she would recognize the keep or at least some other landmark nearby. She had gotten rather good at telling the mountains in Skyrim apart, to navigate the rough landscape. But as her eyes searched the horizon, she saw nothing that looked even remotely familiar.

"A nice view, my mortal friend?"

She whirled around, calling forth her magic in her right hand, as she faced the intruder. She was relieved that her magic still responded to her as it should, though the relief was short lived when she saw her visitor.

Standing there in his full glory, was the Deadric Prince Sanguine. Dressed in his dark deadric armor, his skin black and dark red and his horns very much visible on his head, there was no doubt about his inhuman nature.

"You..."

"I," the Deadric Prince replied mockingly, "But this is about you. You need to liven up a little, mortal. Hence is why you are here."

"You did this to me? Where am I?"

"Away. Far away, to another dreary place that needs to liven up. That will be your job, just if you didn't understand the implied order," Sanguine drawled.

"You should have left me where I had been before!" she exclaimed in outrage. Powerful being or not, she was not happy about being the Deadra's little puppet… again.

"Where I found you… In the dirt, on the soiled floor of the tavern in Riften, piss drunk and romping around with the oafish Blackbriar boy," Sanguine drawled, "Now that you mention it, that had been rather fun to watch. But now you are here, see it as my gift to you for that fantastic show."

She wasn't sure whether she should feel embarrassed or not. She could remember none of that and the Deadra could be lying to her. It wouldn't be the first time either. Though the last time she had run into Sanguine, it had ended with a botched up marriage, a huge fine and her humping statues in Dibella's temple, so maybe there was some truth in his words. She hoped not.

"Hm, so Sheogorath was right, after all, you wouldn't appreciate this grand and entirely unselfish gesture. Shame on you. Just let go of your constraints and let Uncle Sanguine adjust your course a bit," the Deadric Lord laughed.

In a flash of anger, she threw a fireball at him, setting him on fire. But the flames died down almost immediately and only left a bored expression on his face.

"I get the feeling that you don't like your gift," he drawled.

"Why are you always doing this to me? Are there no followers of yours to torment?"

He laughed boisterously, "But you are my favorite toy! Now enjoy your life as a princess in this dreary world. I'll be watching, Argella." Then he disappeared once more, likely back to his plane of Oblivion from where he would wreck the lives of countless mortals for his own sick pleasure.

"I hate Deadra..." she muttered darkly.

But she wondered about the name he had called her. Argella. That wasn't her name. No, her name was… she couldn't remember. She remembered Argella, but that had never been her name, it wasn't even an imperial name…

Argella. She tried to remember something about this name. Where had it come from? Was it really her name in this world? It would imply that the Deadra had somehow influenced this world or was she a total stranger dropped into an unknown situation? That would definitely suit Sanguine's style. All he could to humiliate her and make her life a mess.

But she couldn't deny it, there were memories of a person called Argella in her head. A princess of these lands. She growled in frustration as she remembered bits and pieces of the girl's life. That darn Daedra had somehow merged her with this child. A princess and the only child of King Argilac. And though her father in this world was a true warrior, the same couldn't be said of his child.

She sighed deeply. This wouldn't be easy by any means. But she had faced worse before. She would survive even this kind of life and one day she would find a way back home. And a way to wipe that damn smirk off Sanguine's face.


	2. Chapter 2

Argilac Durrandon, King of the Stormlands and by his own estimation the greatest warlord on the continent, was by no means an idle man. Conflict after conflict kept him busy and his sword arm well trained. There had never been much peace in his life, ever since the crown had landed on his head when he had still been far too young.

Though he reveled in the thrill of the battle, there were also many occasions when he felt regret for his near constant absence from his own home. Even now he was on his way back to Storm's End, after little over a year fighting a war against the Reach in the never ending struggle for the contested regions around the Red Mountains. It was a resounding victory, of course, even ending with the death of his rival, King Garse Gardner. But it would hardly be the end to the conflicts.

As his castle, Storm's End finally came into view, he allowed himself a relieved smile. The legendary castle that his ancestor had built in defiance of the gods themselves, it was sight he would never tire of seeing. A sight he had seen far too little of in recent years.

And it was also the place where his greatest regret kept waiting for him to return. His daughter. The child he had first seen when she had been two years old, because of a conflict with the Ironborn to the north. The child whose mother had died in his absence, when he had been busy waging war. The child that for some inexplicable reason still loved him as only a daughter can love her father. The child he had never been able to love because he had always craved a son, not a weak daughter.

"Nothing ever changes, as it seems," Ser Raymont Penrose, Argilac's closest friend and brother in arms said, as they both rode towards the gates of the castle. "Never changing Storm's End."

Argilac chuckled as he understood the deeper meaning behind the otherwise unremarkable comment of his friend. No matter how often they would leave, upon their return, everything would be the same. It was both comforting and maddening.

Yet something was amiss this time. Of course, there were all the guards, courtiers, and servants lined up in an orderly fashion to welcome their king home. They always did this when he returns. But there was one person missing. His daughter.

"Welcome home, your grace. All of us had been overjoyed when we heard of your most recent victory against the Gardeners," Endrew Tarth, the youngest brother of Lord Edwyn Tarth and castellan of Storm's End greeted his king.

"Say, Endrew, you wouldn't know where our fair princess has ended up?" Raymont asked when the king looked around once more.

The castellan seemed worried all of a sudden, something that did not go unnoticed by King Argilac, whose temper rose ever so slightly because of this. Though the man had little love for the girl, she was still his only heir. No matter how hard he had tried, no matter who he had tried with, for some dastardly reason the Seven had only granted him, one child.

"Where is my daughter, Tarth?" the king demanded to know.

The man looked decidedly uncomfortable all of a sudden, as he began sweating and stammering. "She… she is… gone."

"Gone?" Argilac demanded to know.

"Please forgive me, your grace, but Princess Argella has left the castle about a day ago and has yet to return."

The king could hardly believe it. His complacent daughter, leaving the castle just like that? Highly unusual.

"Then what are you and your men doing here?" Argical raged, "Find her!"

Endrew nearly fell over his own legs, as he quickly turned and ran towards the stables. Their king's rage was well known and only surpassed by his obsessive pride, so none of them had any doubts that whatever punishment Argilac would come up with would be very… life changing.

"Go with him, Raymont. Take our scouts and the fastest riders and find my daughter. I doubt that someone like Argella could have gotten very far."

"Of course," the lord replied, quick to agree with his friend and liege. "But what if..."

What if the princess is dead… Argilac didn't even want to think about that. Countless wounds had left him hard pressed to make another heir to his line, so if Argella's foolishness had resulted in her end… House Durrandon would end with her. And he would only hate her more for that.

* * *

Ignorant of the events happening at Storm's End, Argella Durrandon was already at the other end of the Stormlands. High up in the sky, on the back of her rather unwilling companion Odahviing. She hadn't been sure whether it was surprising or not that of all her spells and shouts, the one to call the dragon to her side had worked best.

Odahviing, as usual, had been grumpy and foul mouthed about being dragged to another world by her, but his sense of honor and obligation forced him to answer her call and aid her to the best of his abilities. And for the first time ever, Argella had actually been happy to have the grumpy lizard near. He was, at the very least, a small part of home in a foreign land.

"This land is massive but quite different from our home in Skyrim," she told her companion, as they soared over the treetops of a gigantic forest.

For more than a day they had traveled away from the castle where she had woken up, and by now she was convinced that they could travel a hundred days more and not find an end to this place, this Westeros, as the scholar at the keep had called it. As far as she understood their maps, they hadn't even reached the end of King Argilac's realm.

It was another thing that Argella had trouble coping with. The fact that Sanguine had somehow managed to turn her into a princess. Her! Of all the people in Skyrim. Queen Elisif would be mortified by the mere idea that her unruly Thane was supposed to be a queen herself in the future. And General Tullius would rightfully fear that every realm she would touch would crumble in a heartbeat. There was a reason why she had never sought more power than what others had willingly given her. After her role in ending the Stormcloak rebellion, she could have ascended into the ranks of nobility in Skyrim. Even the Emperor himself would have welcomed her as a friend, had she desired to return home to the Imperial City. But she wasn't meant for any of that.

"This world is dead and empty, Dohvakiin," Odahviing replied, his voice a deep rumbled that she could feel through her entire body. It made riding on the dragon without a saddle even less comfortable than it already was.

"I don't see your point. There are people everywhere. Maybe not the major settlements we have seen at home, but small towns and hamlets everywhere," she replied, confused and irritated. "This is anything but dead."

"The magic here is… gone. There are weak traces of it, but otherwise there is nothing here," the dragon elaborated, "A world without magic is dead or at the very least dying. This peace shall not last."

That was certainly disconcerting. Sanguine had sent her here for a reason. Twisted as the minds of the Daedra are, she couldn't be sure what exactly he expected her to do. But to send her to a world without magic… Her, a battlemage of the imperial army. What dastardly plan must that Daedra prince have hatched…

Her gaze wandered over the land once more. The lush green forest seemed so vibrant and alive. She could barely believe that it was entirely without magic. But wait, hadn't Odahviing said that he can feel magic somewhere in the distance?

"The magic you feel, can you take us to it?" she asked.

The dragon roared in reply before he suddenly changed his course. The sudden movement was so abrupt, that she nearly fell off his back. Only barely she managed to cling to one of the spikes on Odahviing's back. The dragon even increased the speed immensely, much to Argella's discomfort. It was getting cold and her eyes hurt from the constant wind whipping against them. Not even Odahviing's warm scales were enough to keep her fingers from getting numb. But no matter how much she yelled for the dragon to slow down again.

Only when the green forest below them gave way to the rocky landscape of the coastline, Odahviing slowed down once more. Argella wanted to yell and rage, to get the dragon to understand just how close she had come to fall off because of his antics, but as she saw the tumultuous see in front of them, her awe kept her mind occupied.

"The source of magic isn't far, Dovahkiin," Odahviing roared. "It's getting closer to us as we speak."

Is it getting closer? This could only mean that the source was some living being. A creature most likely, or a lone mage on a ship. But she couldn't see any ships. No, it had to be a creature.

They continued on their way across the water, leaving the land behind them. But the as they left one coast, the other coast, on the opposite side of the large bay got closer. Argella tried to remember the maps she had studied before leaving, but the names of the places she had seen refused her call. But she knew that on their way they would sooner or later happen upon a group of islands. Islands the scholar at Storm's End had warned her about. He had only said that it was dangerous and that she shouldn't ask about that place, but he did sound worried.

"It's close," Odahviing exclaimed. "It's… below us!"

Argella yelped and held on to Odahviing's back for dear life, as the dragon suddenly changed his course and tried soar higher into the sky. And just as she felt at least a little bit safer on the dragon's back, an earth shattering roar tore through the sky and a gigantic beast emerged from the water. Another dragon, with scales as black as the night and a wingspan that made Odahviing look like a whelp in comparison.

"Is that… Alduin?" she wondered loudly. "But how? I killed him!"

"No, Dovahkiin, that is not one of my brethren. That one is wild and uncivilized, a true beast. We need to escape, quickly!"

Odahviing was right, of course. This dragon, though just as dark and fear inducing as Alduin had been when she first met him, was far bigger than her vanquished foe. Whatever or whoever this dragon was, he was truly frightening.

But as they tried to flee, their path was blocked by yet another dragon. Another beast with silvery scales and golden eyes. But unlike the black monstrosity, this one was only slightly bigger than Odahviing and much to her surprise, this one had a rider of its own. Just how distracted had they been to miss the presence of not one but two other dragons? Her mind must have wandered too far as she allowed Odahviing to fly where he pleased...

On the back of the silver dragon sat a beautiful woman with silver-blond hair flowing freely in the wind.

They were too far up for words to reach each other, so the other woman gestured towards the coastline. Argella nodded, understanding what was meant. The woman wants to talk, something that Argella was all too willing to do. Especially if that woman had any connection to the black monster she had seen before.

Both dragons quickly flew towards the coastline, where they landed atop the cliffs and allowed their riders to dismount. But as Argella was about to jump off Odahviing's back, the dragon growled at her.

"Careful, Dovahkiin. I sense a strange presence in that woman and her dragon. Do not trust their words, no matter how honeyed they may be."

"I will be cautious," she replied, as she patted the scales on Odahviing's neck in an effort to calm her companion. And she smirked, as she realized that this had been the first time the old lizard had shown genuine concern for her. Maybe there was hope for them after all.

Soon enough Argella stood face to face with the silver-haired woman. Violet eyes, a color she had only ever seen on Elves, stared unyieldingly into her own blue orbs. A silent battle of wills ensued, as either woman judged the other at first glance.

"I never expected to see another dragon-rider this side of the Narrow Sea," the woman began. "A strange surprise, one I'm not so sure whether I like or not."

Argella snorted derisively at that. "Can't say I expected to see someone like you either. Or that black monster. Is he another one of yours?"

"Perhaps," the woman replied enigmatically, an impish smirk on her lips. "But let's start with a proper introduction first. I am Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of House Targaryen, the last Dragonlords of Valyria."

Targaryen… Argella had read that name before. A letter the castellan had forgotten in the scholar's study. Apparently, her father had some dealings with some Targaryen lord. Aeron… no. Avion, Agor… no. Aegon, yes, that was the name. But for the rest, Argella had no idea whether dragonlords are some sort of warrior guild with dragons or what Valyria was supposed to be. There were still far too many blank spots in her knowledge about this land and its history. The memories of the previous Argella, whose place she had taken, yielded little useful information on that matter.

"And you are? It is only considered polite to answer with your own introduction," Rhaenys grumbled when Argella failed to answer.

"Alessia," she said. She felt that it would be a bad idea to reveal her other name in this world or her relation to the Storm King Argilac. So she opted for her true name, the one she had been given by her poor parents back in Cyrodiil.

"Just Alessia? No grand noble family attached to that?" Rhaenys asked curiously, "Your clothing and weapons betray you." She clearly didn't believe a single word Argella had said.

"Just Alessia. Born and raised among the poorest of the Waterfront. All you see here has been given to me in return for my services," she replied.

"A sellsword then. How wonderful. A sellsword with a dragon. My brother will be thrilled to hear this," Rhaenys muttered, a faux jovial expression on her face. It was obvious that she anything but happy about this. "Maybe it would be better for you to come with me then, Alessia. Us Dragonriders have to stick together, you know. There aren't that many left after the Doom and all."

"I'm sorry, but I prefer to work alone. Less of a hassle and I really don't need anyone to carry my burdens," Argella replied with a taunting smirk of her own.

They remained silent for some long moments, only staring at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Argella wasn't sure how this would end, but when Rhaenys' hand itched for her sword, she knew that a battle was unavoidable.

Both drew their swords, as the dragons roared, ready to join the fight. Argella's grip on her sword tightened, as got ready for the fight. Mentally she went through all the spells she knew, to decide which would be best suited in this fight. She wasn't sure what the silver dragon could do and the woman could potentially be a mage as well.

"Let's make this quick," Rhaenys proposed, "Just you and me. No need to get our dragons hurt unnecessarily."

Odahviing growled, clearly insulted by the insinuation that the other dragon could do any sort of lasting damage to him. Argella was surprised that he had kept his mouth shut for so long, not uttering a single word since they had come face to face with the other Dragonrider. He had been a lot more chatty in her presence.

"Fine by me," Argella replied.

A smirk spread on Rhaenys' lips, as she charged. She was fast and nimble, fighting with a dance like style that once more reminded Argella of the Elves. Maybe this woman was a half-blood or at the very least had some not so distant elven ancestors. It was rare but entirely unheard of.

Argella returned each blow with the heavy handed style of a trained Imperial soldier. Sturdy defense, heavy offense. A more sluggish style of fighting, usually supplemented by the use of magic. Rhaenys' would sooner tire than break through. Unless she had some nifty magic tricks upon her sleeve.

But any belief that this woman might have any sort of magic was quickly forgotten. There was no magic in the fight, not until Argella cast a Ward to block one of Rhaenys' strikes. The look of shock and astonishment on her opponent's face told Argella all she needed to know. Rhaenys had never cast a single spell in her life, nor had she seen anyone do it either. An advantage she would clearly make good use of.

"What are you?" Rhaenys asked in wonderment.

Argella didn't answer, instead, she pressed her attack and pushed Rhaenys back, until she tripped over some moss covered rock and fell backward, down the small hill they had been on. She had been lucky, had it been the other side of the hill, the steep cliff would have awaited her and not the uncomfortable, but relatively safe, rocky ground.

Rhaenys' dragon roared in utter rage, as it moved forward to keep its mistress safe. Odahviing reacted to this as well and prepared for the seemingly inevitable fight.

"Are we done yet?" Argella asked, as she looked down at Rhaenys, who had just managed to get back to her feet.

A thin line of blood ran down from a cut over her left eye. A ghastly looking wound, albeit not a threatening one if cleaned properly. But for a woman as beautiful as Rhaenys, any such wound in the face would be a great cause for resentment.

"This wasn't a fair fight," Rhaenys accused, as she slowly climbed up the hill.

"You have clearly never fought in a war if you think that fairness matters in a fight. The winner decides what is good and bad after the fight. The dead can't tell their side of the story, so survival should be the first thing on your mind."

Argella had learned this lesson the hard way. Neither Alduin nor the Stormcloaks cared much about honor. Neither does the Empire, but that wasn't a reason to keep her from joining their war effort. The moment she had entered Skyrim she had been threatened and nearly killed. Honor meant little at that time and even later, despite the claims of so many of her companions, victory had been the only thing that had mattered.

"You speak like an old crone, but by the looks you are no older than me," Rhaenys grumbled, as she stood before Argella once more.

Argella smiled indulgently at the other woman, not willing to broach the subject of her age. Before Sanguine's antics, she had been much older. At the very least a decade more than the princess of this world. Now she was young once more, with many more years to deepen her knowledge of magic and sword.

"Your wound should be cared for," Argella said, as she took a step closer to Rhaenys. "Allow me..."

"Why should I? Can I even trust you?"

"Are we enemies?" Argella asked.

Rhaenys pondered this for some moments before she softly shook her head. Some of the silver tressed of her hair touched the wound as she did this and she flinched in pain.

"I have no reason to hate you, so let us remember this fight as a friendly spar. And no spar among friends should leave lasting scars," Argella continued before she raised her hand towards Rhaenys face. She ignored that angry roars of the silver dragon, as she cast a minor healing spell to close the wound.

"What are you?" Rhaenys asked as she realized that the cut above her eye was no longer there.

"I could ask you the same," Argella told her, "But I will take my leave now, Rhaenys Targaryen. I will remember you."

"And I will remember you. We will meet again," Rhaenys exclaimed loudly, as Argella had already reached Odahviing and climbed on his back.

Argella allowed herself one last lingering look at Rhaenys and her dragon. This had been a strange meeting for sure. More dragons and at least one other dragonrider. Had Sanguine known about this before? It would amuse him at the very least, to know that he had sent her to the world with even more dragons… She really, really hates Daedra…

"This was very foolish, Dohvakiin," Odahviing reprimanded her as soon as they had managed to get further away from Rhaenys and her dragon.

"You sound like my mother," Argella complained in return.

"Showing your abilities to a complete stranger without a need for it," the dragon growled, "You only invite others to find out your secrets. This was a mistake."

"Now you sound like Elisif," Argella groaned. She knew that she may have made a mistake to show her magic to Rhaenys like this. She got carried away, too used to using all her skills in a fight. In Skyrim, no one would have been surprised by seeing a battlemage, but here…

"You will be the death of me, Dovahkiin," Odahviing grumbled angrily, before he said, "I'm taking you back to that castle of yours, lest you start a war here."

She didn't say anything return, deep in thought about what she had experienced on this small journey away from Storm's End. Dragons and their riders and a world otherwise without magic. Just what was Sanguine's plan? She could only hope that she wouldn't find out too late to stop it...


	3. Chapter 3

It was rather windy and the light was dimmed by dark clouds above, as Rhaenys Targaryen returned to Dragonstone, clinging to her dragon with the last of strength. After her fight with the sellsword Alessia, she had forgone any breaks and hastened her return to Dragonstone, even going as far as crossing through the storm that held Blackwater Bay in its tumultuous grip.

She was wet, she was hungry, she was tired and worst of all, she sure looked like a hideous monstrosity. Yet it mattered little at that moment. Too great was her need to inform her brother about the appearance of a fourth dragonrider. For all their plans could be at risk, should the sellsword end up on the wrong side of the conflict they were preparing so meticulously for.

Her dragon, Meraxes, left her side and flew away the moment she had hit solid ground, likely to find either food or Balerion, who had followed them on the way home.

And she, like a madwoman on a rampage, stormed through the castle of Dragonstone. Maids and guards alike jumped out of her way, as they watched their lady warily.

Rhaenys would have felt insulted by their shocked and discontent looks, had she not been more focused on her task. At other times, she would have done something to assure the people under her aegis that nothing was amiss. Nothing would bother her more than to be feared by her own people. Her enemies, yes, but never her own.

Soon she reached her brother's chambers, the place where she would expect him to be at this time of day. And true enough, she found Aegon in his bed, though not alone. Their older sister, Visenya, was there as well, on top of him, riding him as she preferred to do. Always on top, her sister would not accept any other place, citing it as her right as the oldest of the three siblings, Rhaenys thought with an amused smirk.

"Sister, what a pleasant surprise. Care to join us?" Aegon called out to her, between grunts.

"Better not," Visenya groaned, "Look at her, windswept and dirty from spending too much time flying with her dragon."

"Of course, dear sister, we both know that I am the better dragonrider," Rhaenys replied sweetly, as she approached the large bed. "Both those with scales and those without."

"Must you be so..." Visenya began, but Aegon silenced her when he pulled her down into a kiss before he pushed her off his lap so he could stand up.

"You didn't have to stop on my account," Rhaenys said, as she watched Aegon grab a silken robe.

"I am spent anyways," he replied offhandedly. "So, how was your little excursion with Meraxes and Balerion."

Aegon must have believed his mask to be perfect, but Rhaenys had spotted it immediately, the look of annoyance when her brother mentioned his dragon. He was never a man who likes to share what he considers his, so her leaving with his dragon in tow was considered… disruptive by him. It wasn't even her fault at all, but the fact that Balerion and her she-dragon were likely to mate soon lead to the largest of their dragons to follow Meraxes almost everywhere.

"It was joyful, as always," was Rhaenys only reply.

Aegon had reached a table where a flask of Dornish wine and some goblets stood. He filled all three goblets, handing one to her before he returned to the bed with the other two in hand. Visenya took hers, though she did not drink. Her eyes were hard, as she glared at her younger sister. Her presence was not wanted by her sister, Rhaenys noted.

"Why are you here, Rhaenys?" Visenya demanded.

"Something has happened. Something that might endanger all of our plans."

A look of anger passed over Aegon's features, as he jumped up from the bed, spilling half of his wine in the process. "What have you done?" he demanded harshly.

"This isn't about what I have done," she told him evenly, unfazed by his anger, "But who I've met."

"Stop with your games, Rhaenys," Visenya admonished, "We are not in the mood for your childish riddles."

Rhaenys pouted for a moment before she smirked. Her next words would certainly shock her older siblings, "There is another dragon in Westeros. I've found it… and a rider."

"What?" Aegon exclaimed loudly. His eyes were wide, just as Visenya's, though her sister did a better job at keeping her emotions in check. "There are no other dragons left. Let alone any other dragonlords."

"Oh, she is not a dragonlord. Not a drop of Valyrian blood in her judging by her looks," she paused, thinking for a moment, as she tried to recall how Alessia had looked. She wanted to get all the details right, "Quite the beauty she is. Dark hair and deep blue eyes, a well-developed body. Looked quite young as well."

"Under which banner does she serve?" Aegon asked. Knowing him, he was most likely already plotting a hundred ways to either neutralize or convert Alessia to their cause. Rhaenys wasn't sure which she would prefer, honestly.

Alessia had beaten her with some odd tricks. Magic she had called it. Was it truly that? Maybe there was more Valyrian blood in her than expected, though the looks… no, only the pure-blooded Valyrian's wielded the most powerful magic.

"She is a sellsword, not even of noble birth. She only introduced herself as Alessia," Rhaenys recounted, "But judging by her armor and weapons, she has to be one well-paid sellsword."

"Alessia… never heard of any sellsword with that name. Neither had any of the other sellswords we have dealt with in the past ever mentioned anything like a dragon in their ranks," Aegon muttered.

"I doubt that she works for others. Seemed more like a lonely soul to me."

"Then maybe she can be courted to our side. Who knows, she might be useful. All Aegon has to do is work his charm," Visenya said. "Another dragonrider could speed up our plans by at least a year or two."

"I will not court any other woman," Aegon exclaimed with finality. He had been rather adamant about this point, even though both of his sisters seemed not very troubled about the possibility of another woman in their brother's bed. But Aegon insisted on remaining faithful to only them. "If I had any intention to marry another, I would have taken that arrogant fool from the Stormlands up on his offer."

"I still say you are a fool for not taking the Stormkings offer. His only child as your wife, we would gain one of the kingdoms without as much as a single fight once the king dies," Visenya muttered angrily, "But of course you had to decline."

"No more," Aegon warned. "Gold will win this woman over or a blade will."

"Do be careful with this one, brother," Rhaenys said carefully, "Underestimating her could be a dangerous mistake."

"I will not," he assured, "I will send Orys to deal with her. He should be back from his meeting with the Lords Massey and Bar Emmon by now. He will succeed."

Almost blind faith in his best friend, as always, Rhaenys thought with a sigh. Aegon and Orys are as close as brothers, some even saying that they might even be that. Rhaenys did remember that her father wasn't even subtle about having more mistresses than fingers, so Orys could be one of the many bastards that haunt Dragonstone and the surrounding isles. Not that anyone would ever find out the truth, now that their father was dead.

The entire conversation had come to an end, that much was assured when Aegon returned to his bed. Rhaenys sighed again. This would mean that the duty of informing Orys of his new task would fall to her. Knowing her siblings, she wouldn't see either of them outside of this room for some more hours. Oh well, at least she would be able to inform Orys about Alessia's peculiarities, he would need all the help he could get.

But first… she sniffed at her clothes after she had left the room… a bath would be needed. She feels like only half a person when she doesn't look her best…

* * *

Argella watched as Odahviing disappeared in the distance. Her scaly companion had dropped her off near the small hamlet where she had first called for him. He wouldn't return with her to Storm's End, a decision they had made together, to avoid any mishaps when the unsuspecting guards of the castle would suddenly see their princess on the back of a dragon. And she wanted to get her horse back. She had left it in the care of a farmer not far from where she had landed and she was loath to give up on the strong animal.

She slowly walked towards the farm, watched by the many curious eyes of the peasants who toiled in the fields. They had seen Odahviing, how could they not. A dragon of his size in an area with large fields and almost no trees. But it wasn't really a problem that they had seen everything. Who would believe them?

Princess Argella on the back of a dragon? The lords of the Stormlands would laugh at such an audacious claim. Much to her annoyance, the princess had been rather vain and useless before Sanguine's plot. She was a princess to the core, with a temper that clearly showcased the words of House Durrandon. Ours is the Fury. Argella had been a furious girl indeed, but little more. That would change, of course, now that she was the princess. But one step at a time.

"Princess Argella," the farmer came to her, his eyes downcast, his back bowed as he tried to be as small as possible to seem unassuming.

She tried to remember the man's name, but she couldn't. Maybe she hadn't even asked. Not that it mattered. Instead, she simply asked for her horse.

"Fed and watered. Had my oldest look after her all time, to make sure nothing happens," the farmer assured her. And true to his word, the black destrier looked just as well groomed as she had in the stables of Storm's End.

"I'm pleased. You've served me well," she said, trying to sound as lordly as she could. It was still a strange feeling. She had experience of commanding men in the military and in some capacity as a Thane, but never in this sense. "Tens pennies was it," she asked. The man nodded almost shyly, afraid to rouse her temper. "Good money for a job well done."

She smiled reassuringly at the man and his children, who had come to watch the scene but kept their distance. Argella took her purse and took a hand full of the coins she had brought along on her small journey. She had one of the gold coins in her hand. She hesitated for a moment, then put the golden one away. It would only invite trouble for the poor man and do him little good. Instead, she took the copper coins and counted them. Instead of the ten, he had been promised, she gave him twenty-five. The man paled and sputtered that it was too much, but she only smiled at him and walked away to her horse. He had more need of the money than she did. Just judging by how thin his children looked, the money would be well invested here.

She patted her horse before she climbed onto its back and rode away. She looked over her shoulder once, to see the farmer surrounded by his children, all of them happier than they had been when she had first arrived at their farm. His youngest daughter waved happily until Argella couldn't see her anymore.

"Be kind and generous to the people. Protect the weak, heal the sick, and give to the needy," she muttered. It was the first of the ten commands of the Nine Divines. Stendarr's command, if she remembered correctly. She had never been a zealous woman, but she remembered the Ten Commands almost to the letter. Her mother had her repeat them every night before bed when she had been a child.

Here in Westeros, the people had a different religion. Instead of the Nine, they worshipped the Seven. Why men felt the need to emphasize the number of their gods was beyond her, though. She wondered how different the faith here really was from the one in Tamriel. But she knew that she would have to tread carefully. Especially the poorest find their only solace in their Faith and praying to the wrong gods, even by accident, could cause trouble.

She sighed deeply. She had much to ponder. Now that she had seen some of the land and its people, there was no denying that Sanguine had dumped her in a world vastly different yet similar to her own. And if she fails to find a way back… well, she would have to get used to living here in Westeros. But that would take much time, luckily something she seemed to have in abundance as a princess.

She wasn't in much of a hurry, as she steered her horse southeast, following the dirt paths that lead towards Storm's End. It would be a few hours, half a day at most if she tarried somewhere. The road was even muddier than the day before when she had traveled in the opposite direction. Short and unexpected rainfalls are not uncommon in the mountainous regions and it seemed that she had just missed another downpour. Lucky her, she mused.

Hours went by with nothing much happening at all. Some merchant caravans struggling through the mud, some peasants on foot trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Even some armed riders here and there. Lightly armored and quick horses, scouts most likely, she realized. Those men gave her the oddest of looks before they hurried away. Female warriors were rare in this world it would seem. Or maybe the style of her Imperial Armor was just too outlandish for them. Argella just knew that this would be troublesome in the long run.

And apparently, even armed women are not even seen as any threat at all. Not much later she found herself surrounded by a large group of high grown, bearded savages. They had attacked one of the merchants but apparently, that had not been enough to sate their greed.

"Of course it has to be one of those days," she muttered, as pulled her sword from its scabbard.

The men chuckled, clearly not taking her seriously, as they advanced towards her. They would have to learn the hard way. At least it would be more entertaining than another few hours on a muddy road with little to no distraction.

"Stand down, in the name of the king!"

Argella sighed, as she saw her chance at some fun vanish without a trace. And it was replaced by several dozen heavily armored riders, who charged towards them. The bandits obviously recognized the banners of the knights and quickly turned to run away. None got away, as the first row of heavy cavalry washed over them and stomped them into the muddy ground.

One of the knights stopped in front of her, flanked by the other riders she had seen before. So they had been his scouts, how wonderful.

"Princess," the knight greeted her, as he removed his helmet.

Argella didn't show any surprise that she had actually met someone who knew what princess Argella really looks like on the road. The peasants had only assumed that she was the princess due to the sigil on her horses' saddle and the fact that she was likely the richest woman they had seen in their entire lives. But this man had recognized her face, much to her annoyance.

She studied him and the sigil he showed on his shield, in an attempt to find the name to the face. But again, nothing. She really did have a memory problem. Just what had the former Argella been thinking about all day? Seriously…

But the knight before he watched her with a grim look. His scarred face, with the demolished nose that had likely been broken more than once without proper treatment, and his heavy frame gave him the look of a seasoned warrior. But he was old. At least old enough that he could have been her father in this world and his dark eyes were hard and unyielding.

"His Majesty has been most displeased with your sudden disappearance, princess," the knight told her grimly.

"Is that so, Ser..."

"Raymont Penrose," he told her curtly. He had obviously taken offense at her not remembering his name. Maybe this had happened before?

"Well, Ser Raymont, what I do or don't is none of your business," she told him, adding a derisive look for good measure. She tried her best to recreate the look of disdain she had seen so often on Maven Black-Briar's face. Who would have guessed that she would ever learn something from that conniving woman…

"It is very well my business," he snarled at her, surprising her greatly. "His Majesty has placed you under my protection for the time being and until he says otherwise you will do as I tell you. Now we will return to Storm's End before you get another chance to get yourself killed." A glare followed his words, as he saw the sword in her hand, "And put that weapon away, women have no business with swords."

"I'll be sure to remember this, Ser Raymont," she replied icily, as she put away her sword. And she would remember it. Soon, she promised herself. Soon she would put him in his place. For the moment she only wanted to get away from this stupid road and find a bed. She was getting tired of all this. Next time she would just fly to Storm's End, no one would dare to speak to her like this when she arrives on the back of a dragon...

* * *

"Be careful with this one, she is far more than meets the eye," Rhaenys cautioned Orys, as they left the main keep of Dragonstone and walked towards the docks where Orys ship was already waiting for him.

"What is the worst that could happen?" Orys replied, followed by a roguish smirk.

There was an obvious concern in Rhaenys words, but he was confident that he would tame that sellsword woman. Aegon had tamed two wild Dragonriders, so surely he would be able to contend with one, he thought.

And truth be told, he wasn't even mad about having to leave Dragonstone again so briefly after his return. The mainland was is a great place, filled with strife and wonders. He had yearned for a chance to explore some more of it before Aegon would burn it all to the ground and now this sellsword was his chance to do so.

"Orys, try not to be a fool. Just this once," Rhaenys implored him.

"I'll try," his smirk widened, as his ship came in sight, "So, you said that this woman..."

"Alessia," she supplied.

"Yes, this Alessia, she is pretty?"

"Quite. Not our Valyrian beauty, but definitely one of the prettier Andal women I have seen so far," she told him. "Black hair, even darker than yours, and dark blue eyes. She did wear some strange armor, a mixture of leather and steel, but I'm pretty sure that she is shapely underneath."

Oh, he would find out how shapely she was. He was looking forward to meeting this woman. But first, he would have to find her. All Rhaenys could tell him, was that she had left on the back of her dragon, a beast about the size of Vhagar with red and white scales, heading towards the heart of the Stormlands. But how hard could it be to find her? Dragons are not exactly common in Westeros and someone has surely seen her flying around. He was quite confident that he would find her quickly.

"And what will you be up to?" Orys asked Rhaenys, to end the sudden silence between them. It was rather odd how easy and carefree his talks with Aegon could be, but how awkward his times with Rhaenys and Visenya often turned out to be. More often with the latter, as Rhaenys was more open and cheerful compared to her elder stern sister.

"Balerion has absconded with Meraxes, so for the moment, I'm grounded. I will likely search for their nest soon and retrieve the eggs," she mused, "It'll be good to have some eggs should we have children in the near future."

"Good luck with that," Orys muttered. He wasn't so keen on getting close to dragons and stealing their eggs seemed like a stupid idea.

"Orys, just one last piece of advice. I have fought against Alessia and she defeated me easily. Her fighting style and her magic make her a dangerous foe, so should you have to fight her, try to think with your head and not with your cock for once," Rhaenys told him. She even managed to look stoic the entire time, even though it was clear that she was about to start laughing at his stony expression.

"Let's just pretend that you are not interested in my cock," he muttered. Aegon would be very angry should he ever suspect that anyone has lustful thoughts of his sister-wives, so he would rather avoid any sex-related topics with them. "I'll be going now. Keep Aegon safe, gods know he needs a minder."

"I will. Try not to die, Orys. Aegon would be miserable without you," she laughed before she gave him a quick hug. "And bring home that wayward rider for me."

He chuckled, as he boarded his ship and began barking orders at his men. Onwards to a new adventure, a thought that brought a smile to his face. Even if he would fail to find this Alessia, at the very least he would have some fun and see the different kingdoms of Westeros.

* * *

Argilac Durrandon was by no means a happy man at the moment. He should have been. He had just returned from a great victory against his enemies in the west. He had slain the enemy king and stopped yet another attempt of the Gardner kings to steal more of his realm. For too long had those pesky wretches looted the rotten corpse of a realm his father had tried to preserve, but Argilac knew that it was only due to his own victories that the Stormlands will survive.

Yet here he was, still shaking with fury, as he watched the comings and goings of the men in the courtyard. He stood high above them, on a balcony near the top of Storm's End's giant keep, a place from where he would spot everything.

A rider had returned not long before, reporting that Raymont had found Argella. Good man, that Raymont, one of his few friends and by far his most reliable vassal. He had found his foolish daughter, when that pissant Tarth had not even tried to search, citing that it would be impossible to find one little girl in the mountains near Storm's End.

Argella… the bane of his existence, as always. Useless Argella, so very pretty yet so utterly useless. His only child would only be good for a political marriage, if at all. But their enemies are waiting on all sides and none would be won over by giving them just one foolish girl.

He should have gotten rid of her, he mused. It would have spared him much grief and anger. Only child or not, his House was doomed either way. If only that girl didn't look so much like his beloved Aelinor…

He began pacing, in the futile hope that some of his fury would abate. It didn't. The memories of his dead wife only angered him more. Taken by a sickness in his absence, leaving him alone with her daughter… Oh, why had she never been able to give him a son? There had been enough time, enough attempts. A late revenge of the gods for Durran's audacity? Pah, he never believed in those stories. Too many lies told by dead men. Only true actions would make a man's name, not the supposed blood of a goddess in their veins.

A shout echoed through the courtyard. One of the guards on the gate towers had spotted riders approaching. Raymont's banners.

He watched in silence, leaning heavily on the balustrade of the balcony, as one after another Raymont's men entered Storm's End. In rows of five, a hundred riders in total. Some of them the fastest they have in their army. Good men, loyal men. They have served him well and now they desired to return to their women and children. They have earned it. Yet they had to postpone their return to search for one stupid girl...

Then he saw Raymont… and Argella. Even from so far up he could see that his friend was just as angry as he was. The man sat rigidly on his horse, wearing his helmet. Raymont never wears his helmet outside of a battle, unless he tries to hide something from the people. In this case, he tried to hide the dark storm of emotions they all must feel because of Argella's foolishness. But the smallfolk had no business knowing that. Good man, that Raymont, for keeping it that way.

And Argella… he scowled as he saw her. She had taken one of the best destriers they have in the stables of Storm's End. A horse that was specially bred for him to replace his aging warhorse. Typical. But… by the Seven, what was his daughter wearing? Armor! That foolish girl was wearing armor.

He turned away from the sight and walked back inside. Best not make a scene by yelling at her from up here.

It took some time until Raymont and Argella had climbed the many steps of the keep. Time for Argilac to stew in his own anger. But finally, a knock on the door announced their arrival and Raymont quickly ushered the girl in, before he closed the door and remained there, blocking the nearest exit.

Again Argilac had a good look at his daughter. He had been right. Even from up here, he had seen correctly. His foolish, useless, spineless daughter was wearing armor. But he had never seen such an armor before. A sturdy leather armor, seemingly tailored to be used by a woman, with a similarly custom made steel chest plate and pauldrons. A strange symbol had been emblazoned on the belt buckle, a diamond-shaped crest that looked strangely like a dragon. And to top it off she wore a fur-lined crimson cloak, a color so similar to the banner of those bastard Lannisters. A sword was dangling from her hip as well. This entire getup was so… unusual. Argella had never touched a weapon in her life, let alone would she have ever worn armor. But this was his daughter. The same defiant eyes, the same color as Aelinor's…

"Father," she said, her words just as defiant as her eyes.

He couldn't help himself in that moment and backhanded her hard. She didn't shy away, she didn't cry. She just continued staring at him with those defiant eyes. And unlike in the past, she barely even wavered. By the Seven, what has happened to change her so much? Had he been gone for so long?

"Do you have any idea what you are doing, foolish girl?" he barked angrily when the slap did not elicit much of a reaction from her.

"I was perfectly safe," she replied simply. "You may think that me weak, but I'm not that girl anymore."

Not that girl anymore, oh the arrogance of her words. People don't change like this in such a short amount of time. He had been gone for how long? Half a year? A full year at most.

"Once more you've brought shame to my family," Argilac growled, "And you will be punished for this. I will have you locked up in a cell beneath the cliffs!"

"I've done no such thing, father," she told him, unfazed by his anger. Her cheek was red and her lips were split and bleeding, but it didn't bother her at all.

"Pretending to be something you are not! The arrogance. Playing warrior for all my realm to see, only to have better men save your sorry hide. Just why do the Seven punish me with such a worthless child?"

A smirk appeared on Argella's lips, causing the wound to widen a bleed more. Not that it seemed to bother her. But the sheer arrogance… he wanted to hit her again but refrained from doing that. He had a feeling that it would be useless to waste any more strength on her.

"I will prove myself a warrior then!" she exclaimed. "I challenge you to a fight."

Was she challenging him? HIM? Had some disease bereft her of what little sanity she had left? Raymont chuckled darkly behind her, clearly amused by the ridiculous exclamation. Maybe he should laugh as well. This had to be the first funny joke his daughter had told him in her entire life.

"You are at least two decades too young to challenge a warrior of your father's kind, princess," Raymont told her.

"Hide then," she just said, "Then I will fight you, Ser Raymont. Maybe you are more agreeable."

Raymont was about to answer, when Argilac spoke first, "Do it, Raymont. Beat some sense into my foolish daughter." Her infuriating smirk remained, much to his chagrin, "But try to avoid her face, I need her pretty if she is to marry a man of worth."

"As you wish, your grace," Raymont replied, clearly reluctant. "To the training yard then, princess. Let's get this over with."

Argella looked as if she had already won a war. Proud and self-confident, as she pushed past Raymond and down the stairs. By the Seven, what insanity has befallen her in his absence? This entire encounter had done little to quell his anger… maybe he would spar with Raymont once he is done the idiot. It should be relaxing...


	4. Chapter 4

It had been rather loud when Argella returned to Storm's End. The return of the king had brought hundreds of other men back home. Men who were now busy finishing their last assigned tasks before they would return to their families. Especially the riders, the king had sent out to find his daughter, were now busy with their horses and their weapons. Running about in the courtyard, the stables, and the smithy, as their last hours as warriors were about to end, so they could once more be simple men with simple lives and simple families.

For Argella, things were not that simple. Still fuming because of the king… her father, she reminded herself, she stalked towards the center of the courtyard, followed by Ser Raymont and her aforementioned father.

In her younger years in Cyrodiil, she had learned the hard way that some things should better remain unsaid, especially when dealing with nobility and those in power. The scars that had always reminded her of that, once adorning her entire back, were now gone. Lost with all of her other mementos of her past trials and tribulations. She wouldn't mourn the wounds and scars, the itchy and sore spots, but she wouldn't forget how she got them either.

And though she was royalty now, she had ended up in a world where a woman's worth was considered much less than in Tamriel. King Argilac and even his servant, this Ser Raymont, had made that abundantly clear. It angered her more than it should and deep inside she could feel the roaring flame of her own fury. It was odd, she had not been as emotionally unbalanced before… though maybe there was more of the old Argella left than she had first believed. She was a Durrandon now and from the little, she had seen, their words rang dangerously true. Ours is the Fury...

And as a fighter, as a survivor, her pride was deeply insulted. As such, she had allowed herself this one chance at revenge. A fight, to prove herself, to show them just how little they knew about her and how much more powerful she truly is.

To her surprise, the king even agreed to her challenge. He allowed her to fight Ser Raymont, a man the king seemed to trust greatly. The king was likely expecting her to be defeated easily. Let Raymont teach her a lesson about insolence... as if.

Someone would learn a lesson, she thought as a cold smirk curled the corner of her lips.

The entire courtyard fell silent and men came from all corners to see the event that was about to unfold. All watched as the king arrived in all his martial glory. And it was here, that it became apparent to Argella just how much King Argilac truly means to his people. A greatly revered warrior, but judging by the worried glances and the quickly averted eyes, not the most beloved of men.

"You wish to fight, so be it," the king announced loudly, as he stared at his daughter. "Prove yourself or abandon your folly."

"I am not the daughter you've left behind," she replied heatedly. And it was the truth. When Argilac had left for his latest war, Argella had been an entirely different person. Now she was more, so much more. And the old girl, the useless daughter, was gone forever. Sanguine had seen to that.

"Beat some sense into that thick skull of hers, Raymont," the king barked at his friend before he stepped back.

Argella watched the king for another moment, as he was quickly surrounded by his knights and servants. None of them seemed to envy her position.

"You should wear a helmet, princess, you are going to need it," Ser Raymont told her, his voice a mocking drawl as he gave his sword a few test swings. "Else I will ring your head like a bell."

"Don't you worry yourself too much, you won't get a chance to do any damage," she replied, her smirk ever present. "Come now, honorable knight, let's dance."

She had expected a warcry or some other silly tactic to intimidate her. It wouldn't have surprised her, had Raymont charged at her to overpower her quickly. Yet he was more deliberate.

She felt great anticipation, as they started to pace around, analyzing the other for any signs of weaknesses. The knight was obviously not as blind or arrogant as her father and as thus he did not underestimate her and tried to simply attack. When he finally closed the distance between them to strike, his attacks were quick and precise.

She laughed, exhilarated by the challenge before her. He was quicker than his bulky frame would have suggested and beleaguered her left with deft blows.

The men around them cheered and laughed stupidly, enjoying the sight of their obviously unloved princess getting beaten.

Her own attacks had been sparse and most of the times her sword clashed against Raymont's in an attempt to push back his offensive. She had to admit, in a contest sword against sword she would find an even match in the knight. But she wasn't a simple warrior.

"Are you done yet?" she called out, her voice a mocking snarl. "I'm getting tired of you."

"End this, Raymont!" the king ordered, his voice bellowing so loud that it overpowered even the loud jeering of his men.

As they swords met yet again, Argella could see the knight's eyes through the slits of his helmet. There was little remorse to be found in them. Loyal to a fault, no deed was beyond him. She had seen it before, this unquestioning loyalty. Too many Stormcloak soldiers had thrown themselves upon her sword in the final days of the civil war to defend their false king. Misplaced loyalty. Or was it?

She had to admit, she had grown so used to being ruled by an Emperor, so every king in her mind was little more than an upstart pretender. But this man, her father, is a ruler of a sovereign nation. A kingdom that has existed for millennia. He was a warrior of great repute, maybe even a good ruler to his people. It mattered not.

She pushed those thoughts out of her head. She would figure this out later, but first, she had to defeat this knight.

A chance to end the fight quickly and decisively, it was all she needed. And she found it when she feigned an attack on Raymont's knees. It must have looked like a rookie mistake to the men, as their jeering grew even louder. The knight, unwilling to pass up the chance to land a strong blow, attacked her unguarded side. He would not have done it, had she had a shield, but with only a sword in one hand and nothing in the other, he was assured of his success… only to be beaten back by a shimmering power. A ward spell shimmered into existence, blocking the blow entirely.

A shout formed on her lips, a shock to all who would hear it for the first time, "Wuld Nah Kest," she intoned. The well-known feeling of the quick whirlwind steps flooded her. That exhilarating feeling of speed, fast like the wind itself.

Before anyone had even comprehended the sudden turn of events, she had already cast another spell. An Ice Spike shot towards Raymont's shoulder, like a spear. To her surprise, he managed to deflect the projectile easily enough so it only scraped against his armored shoulder. The knight was a seasoned warrior with good reflexes and battlefield awareness. It afforded him the begrudging respect of the princess. If only for a moment.

"What sorcery is this? Are you an abomination?" the knight growled in anger. Her magic had enraged the man and only increased his determination to beat her down.

She quickly cast another spell, a rune on the ground between them. Raymont hadn't seen it. Lead by anger he lunged at her, he didn't see it coming. He stepped onto the rune and howled in pain, as the lightning shocks rushed through him. He couldn't block the next attack and was pushed to the ground, Argella's sword poised to cut through the small crack between his helmet and neck.

"Abomination!" Men all around her cried out in revulsion and shock. Weapons were drawn and chaos reigned.

"Damn, I wish I hadn't done this… Stupid Sanguine, just why has he sent me to a world where people fear magic," Argella cursed, as she realized her blunder. That other dragonrider had not seemed too shocked by her use of magic, she had merely been taken by surprise. But these people… these people looked at her as if she was Mehrunes Dagon on a leisurely stroll through their major cities.

"Seize her! I want her alive," she heard the king yell. He, as many of the others, was quickly closing in on her, weapon in hand.

She had messed up. Big time. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the people around her and to the prattling of this Maester she had met after waking up in this world. It was quite apparent now, that the treatment of women wasn't the only thing that was different here in Westeros.

"Od Ah Viing," she let out the dragon shout to summon Odahviing to her side. She was in dire need of a quick escape and the dragon seemed the most prudent choice at that moment.

Men charged at her from all directions, forcing her to fight for her very life. Moments before she would have been overwhelmed by her father's men, Odahviing's roar echoed through the courtyard. Many men began to scatter and run, when the large dragon suddenly appeared above them, diving through the clouds.

But as the lesser men ran away, the king remained steadfast, "Archers! Take this thing down! A feast for the man who brings me its head!" Argilac shouted, as he took his sword and shield and got ready to fight the dragon himself.

But the king stopped when he saw the dragon land next to his daughter. Wide-eyed he watched as the beast defended her, its tail lashing out against the remaining men and its flame forcing the brazen few who attacked head on to retreat.

Argella saw the look on her father's face, as she climbed upon Odahviing's back. As their eyes met, both stared at each other, cold and unyielding. Their silent battle of wills only ended when Odahviing rose into the sky once more, to carry her away from Storm's End and the men who would have killed her.

"Foolish mortal," the dragon growled, "This world will hunt you now. They fear and destroy what they don't understand."

"And you are suddenly an expert on this matter?" Argella replied indignantly. She knew well enough that she was a fool, there was no need for the overgrown lizard to rub salt in the wound. She could have beaten Raymont without her magic, but she wanted to make a statement. And that she had done, just not the one she had planned.

"I've watched these humans from afar. Ill-bred and superstitious they are. Seeing them toy with and destroy the makers' creation… Alduin might have been right to seek their end," Odahviing spoke.

"Perhaps..." Argella replied, shaken by how suddenly everyone in the castle had turned on her. Not out of malice but utter fear of magic and anything not normal...

She looked back over her shoulder. Storm's End's massive tower was still visible in the distance, like a glaring reminder of her mistake. What was she supposed to do now? Once more she had no place to go and no lord to follow...

Maybe she should take that other dragonrider up on her offer… Though, better not. She still wasn't sure what would await her on the island in Blackwater Bay. No, she'd rather not walk into the next stupid trap after escaping this chaos so narrowly…

* * *

Orys cursed, as he steered his horse through the sheer endless sea of trees. He had been traveling on horseback for a week and there still wasn't an end in sight. The few roads he had found only lead from small hamlets to the keeps of their petty lords and none lead towards the south, where he was headed.

"Aegon better burns this forest down when he comes to conquer this land," Orys muttered darkly, as he passed yet another fallen tree and another small stream littered with critters and game. "Or at least build a real road. Just what is wrong with these people? How can they live like this… stupid wildlings."

Oh, how he wished he had a dragon for himself. Flying over such obstacles would be so much better than fighting his way through it. The first few days it had been fun, he would admit that much. The game in this forest was great for hunting. But by now he had all the food he would need and then some, not to mention that getting chased by boars was not half as entertaining than chasing them. And by the gods, the forest had far too many boars. All he wanted now was to escape this endless sea of green and brown. To reach the edge and move on into the mountainous regions of the Stormlands.

* * *

Argella wasn't entirely sure where she had ended up. She had spent a day on Odahviing's back, to get some distance between her and Storm's End. Better avoid her father and his men, at least until tempers have cooled down a little. But when Odahviing got annoyed by her constant presence, he had all but thrown her off in the middle of nowhere.

It was a nice place, though. Lush green fields and hills, dotted with farms and small villages everywhere. The people were busy and content and the roads well traveled by the people and armed riders. It reminded her a bit of home, of Cyrodiil.

A pang of sadness shook her then, as she thought of home. Unless she could find a way to force Sanguine to revert his wicked magic, she would never see her home again. Neither Skyrim's snowy mountains nor Cyrodiil's green hills.

She took a deep breath and forced her thoughts away from her lost home. For the moment only the here and now was important. She could wallow in misery at some other time.

She had to figure out why Sanguine had sent her to this world, yet first, she had to find shelter. An inn would do nicely if she would manage to find one along the road. The land seemed vast enough and the road was well traveled so the people would surely need a place to stay.

She still had enough coin, gold she had taken from her father's treasury before leaving for her first journey with Odahviing. She had taken much more than needed at that time. Now she was happy that she had done so. Argilac surely wouldn't miss a bag or two of his gold. And even if he did, it would hardly worsen his opinion of her.

But that gold wouldn't last her forever. Some work was needed. As a mercenary, perhaps. But so far she hadn't seen any monsters lurking about neither in the woods, nor the hills, nor the mountains. That other girl, Rhaenys and her dragons had been the only truly threatening thing she had seen. How very odd.

At least there were enough bandits around. Surely some lord would pay a decent amount of coin to get rid of those. Honest work for honest pay.

And one thing was for sure. She would not use the name Argella Durrandon again. From the few things she could glimpse from the former Argella's memories and the information the Maester had provided, it was clear that the Stormking was not very well liked outside of his realm and a great many people would hunt her down, should they ever find out that she's his only child and heir. Well… former heir, most likely.

She sighed, this was just like her journey to Skyrim… with a lot more gold and better armor and weapons. An open world, waiting for her to seek her destiny and a past better left forgotten.

She walked for several more hours until the sun had gone down and the pale moonlight shone down on her. A place to stay, however, had still eluded her. The roads were nigh on abandoned now, with only some lone riders passing by every now and then.

It was odd to watch the night sky here in Westeros. The moon, the stars, all looked different. Still beautiful, but so foreign. It looked more calm, tranquil even. For a moment she even pondered finding a nice, bearably soft patch of grass and lie down there. Watching the stars and slowly drifting off to sleep, that had a nice ring to it. Yet she knew that it would also be a folly. There were still people out at night and the risk of bandits finding her asleep was enough deterrent to keep her on her feet. No, only a locked room at an inn would do. If she would ever find one, that is.

The tranquility of the night was suddenly shattered, as the earth beneath her feet shook and a fireball appeared behind a nearby hill.

Battle honed instincts took over, as she took her sword and mentally recounted the necessary spells for a fight. As quickly as her tired feet would carry her, she ran towards the hill. Once there she slowed, her head down and body close the ground, as she tried to get a glimpse of whatever lies beyond the hill.

What she saw both surprised and angered her greatly. A Daedric creature was there, fighting against a dark robed man and what clearly looked like at least a dozen walking corpses. There was another mortal man, a well-armored knight, with a strange sword in one hand a green shield in the other.

"A necromancer… of all the things it had to be one of Mannimarco's idiot followers that had to follow me to this world," Argella grumbled.

She watched the knight fight, as his sword cut through the undead. The monsters that got hit turned to ash, much to Argella's surprise. But other than that, the knight seemed to have little other magic. Not that he needed any. He was good, and the Daedric monster that aided him was just as useful as the strange sword. But the necromancer was a far more cunning foe than his minions.

If later asked, she wouldn't ever be able to truly say why she had decided to interfere. Though the knight had fought against a force of evil, he had clearly been in league with a Daedra. Yet she helped him, saved him even when the knight had fallen into the Necromancer's trap.

With a powerful shout, she had entered the fray, taking the Necromancer by surprise. Before the worm-riddled bastard even realized it, she had already run her sword through his back and burned his closest minions with her fiery magic.

The many undead were quick to fall, once the necromancer had met his final end. Which left Argella only with the knight and the deadric beast. The latter was her immediate concern.

"Wait! Don't attack him," the knight shouted, as Argella was about to strike. "He's my partner."

"Are you mad?" she bit back, "Deadric creatures are no pets."

"You know what he is?" the knight sounded surprised. He took off his helmet and looked at her with a puzzled look. "How do you know the Deadra?"

Argella laughed bitterly, as she looked at him. "Know them? I know more about them than I would ever care to. The bastard Sanguine is the reason why I'm here in the first place."

"Sanguine..." the knight muttered. He looked to be deep in thought as if he was trying to remember which one Sanguine is.

"Yes, Sanguine. The Daedric Prince of hedonistic revelry, debauchery and passionate indulgence of darker natures," Argella recited. She still remembered Sanguine's first introduction. At that time she had only debased a temple, supposedly married a stranger and hunted for the damn Daedra through half of Skyrim. A leisurely evening stroll compared to waking up in a completely different world, in a strangers body to boot.

"Really? And here I thought I'm special," he sounded almost disappointed as he said that. "The pretty lady told me I was special."

"The pretty lady?" she wondered.

"Lady Meridia. She's the one who gave me this sword and the ability to summon big, tall and golden over there," he said, as he pointed at the Deadric creature. "Go forth and hunt down the undead in my name, she said."

Meanwhile, a thousand different thoughts went through Argella's head. The knowledge that she wasn't the only person with a personal Deadra stalker was both comforting and disconcerting.

"You shouldn't trust the Deadra, even the few among them who are not total monsters," Argella finally said. "And their creatures are just as bad." She looked darkly at the knight's companion.

The man sighed before he dismissed his deadric servant in an attempt to appease her. He was obviously intimidated by her, judging by the cautious look and defensive posturing. But his actions did little to put her at ease, but at the very least she put her sword away, not that this alone would have made her seem any less dangerous. He had seen her magic, after all.

"Never trust the words of a Daedra. To them we are but pawns in their great game with all living beings," Argella warned him.

He sighed, as he took a step back. "Lady Meridia was really nice, though. And the way she looked and acted… it was as if the Maiden herself had come to make me her champion. She didn't like it when I compared her to one of the Seven, however."

"Daedra and Aedra are different from the divines the people worship here in Westeros."

"Is that so?," he grumbled, "I really don't know much about any of this. One moment I was on my way from Ashford back to Highgarden, the next I am surrounded by rotting corpses. Without Lady Meridia, I would be a corpse as well."

It struck Argella as odd that a Daedra would save some random knight out of the goodness of her heart. Daedra lacked both goodness and hearts for the matter. She remembered the tales about Meridia she had heard when she was younger. One of the few, if not the only Daedra with some moral backbone. She had never interacted with this Daedric prince, though. Only Sanguine, Sheogorath and that monster Molag Bal.

"Oh, I am Theo… ahem," he harrumphed oddly, before he elaborated further, "Ser Theo Tyrell, I mean. Son of Harlen Tyrell, the Steward of Highgarden."

Highgarden… so she had happened upon a servant of House Gardener. How quaint. Another reason to keep her real name a secret. As far as she knows, King Argilac had just won a war against the Gardeners and killed their king. Who knows what these people would do to the daughter of that man.

"My name is… Alessia," she replied. Yes, going by her old name from before Sanguine's fuck up would be better. She hadn't even grown used to being Argella yet, so being Alessia again was also somewhat comforting.

"No big family name? No House, no banner or ancestors with great deeds to their name?" Theo asked. He frowned deeply. He knew she was hiding something. At least he wasn't a complete fool and realized that her armor and weapons had to come from somewhere.

"I am a mercenary. I deal with the pests that haunt the common folk for the right amount of coin," she told him.

"I see. So are you a scout? Where is your company? I was not aware that there even was a mercenary company traveling through the Reach at the moment. The king would have loved to hire you to fight the dreaded Stormking."

"I work alone. Others only slow me down," she told him. He didn't look convinced, "If you doubt my skills, I can demonstrate them to you here and now by kicking you into the dirt."

"That… won't be necessary," he assured her. "A female warrior is just unheard off around here, not to mention one that travels and fights alone."

"That's fine and all. I just have to earn myself a better reputation then," she shrugged, as she turned away from him and started to walk.

"Hey, wait!"

"Yes?"

"Where are you going?" Theo asked her. Despite their rather… standoffish first meeting he was obviously intrigued by her. Only because they are both connected to the Daedra, she assured herself. Only because of the Daedra.

She sighed, as she looked up towards the moon, "I don't know about you, Ser Theo, but I am tired and traveling at night is not my favorite pastime. So I'm looking for a place to stay."

"The inn is that way," Theo told her, pointing into the exact opposite direction of where she was going.

She grumbled, muttering some dark curses under her breath that would have earned her a solid beating from just about every maternal figure she had ever known in her life.

"Come, I'm heading there as well. We can travel together. And maybe you can tell me more about the Daedra on the way?"

"I am really tired," she grumbled.

"Tomorrow then. Come now, let's not tarry here any longer," Theo said. All of a sudden he seemed far too comfortable with having her around. His burst of joviality was highly suspicious.

"Fine..." At least she would sleep in a bed tonight. She would indulge the fool for a little while if that is what it would take to do that. And once she had answered his questions she would be rid of him and find herself a way to earn some more gold. One step at a time...


	5. Chapter 5

An inn. Rarely in her life had Argella been so happy to see the shoddy walls of some run down inn at the side of a busy trade route. She was tired, hungry and annoyed at this point. And she blamed Odahviing for all of it. He just had to ditch her in the middle of nowhere, in a possibly hostile kingdom, with no clue where to go or what to do.

"Finally. Some ale and a bed," Theo Tyrell exclaimed happily.

Her current traveling companion was an odd one for sure. He looked and acted like a pampered colovian noble. A second born with his family's gold and influence but none of their responsibilities.

She had seen her fair share of them in the past. Some had even been brazen enough to offer her a place in their household… if she provided proper companionship. Even as a dirty street rat she had been considered easy on the eye, or so she had been told, a notion she had never shared. She had been a scrawny girl, underweight and always covered in dirt and bruises. These foolish men had still desired her companionship… or maybe the simply considered her an easy and acceptable lay…

She still shuddered every time she remembered that one fool from Kvatch… But that was back in the time before she had traveled to Skyrim when she had been a piss poor nobody. None of them would have dared to do this after her rise in the Legion's ranks. At least she hoped that. But thanks to Sanguine she might never find out.

"A bed, nothing more. Some food, maybe," she replied.

"That can surely be arranged," Theo replied, as he pushed the door of the inn open and stepped inside.

What Argella saw within the building was… not very welcoming. The place was falling apart at every corner, dirty and badly maintained. The few lamps in the main room barely shed enough light to keep the people from tripping over all the stuff on the ground.

"Are all the inns in this land this… welcoming?" she asked.

Theo chuckled. "The place has seen better days. I remember coming here with my father when he was still traveling. It was nice and well liked. Good and earnest people, the owners. With a very pretty daughter to boot." He allowed himself a yearning sigh, "Oh pretty Milly, the purest blue eyes one has ever seen. The king's oldest son wanted her as his paramour. Wooed her quite openly, but the king wouldn't allow it. Improper and all, so she had to stay here… the poor girl."

"And what has happened?"

"What always happens. War. A marauding band of Dornishmen managed to elude all our soldiers and terrorized the land. The owner, Old Gil, was the only survivor here. They said the Dornishmen took his wife and daughter, but by the time the king's men managed to crush the marauders, there was no sign of any of the women they had supposedly taken."

Argella didn't say anything, she simply nodded in understanding. A fate that had befallen many, nothing she hadn't seen in spades during the civil war.

"But why is no one here? Is it too late?"

"I don't know. Usually, there are still some travelers at this inn. Not as many as in the old days, mind you, but still enough. This is truly odd," Theo mused, "Hello? Anyone still here."

Argella sighed, as she watched his folly. This place was highly suspicious. She half expected some half-assed assassins to jump out of the backroom to ambush her here. A stupid notion, no one knows who she really is and even then most would rather try to capture the daughter of a king than murder her. That didn't deter the bad feeling, though.

"I'm up, I'm up," an old man grumbled, "You got any idea how late it is?"

The person, possibly the innkeeper, was a haggard shadow of a man. Black eyes bloodshot and his skin a sallow color, soft wind could blow him over as it seemed. He must have been sleeping, as he looked quite drowsy and disheveled.

"Sorry about that, but we need a place for the night. And some food if you have any left," Theo told the man, "Don't worry, I'll pay you extra for your troubles."

"There is only some bread left. Take it or leave," the innkeeper growled.

"Bread is fin, Gil. And the rooms?" Theo asked.

The old man grumbled angrily before he motioned for them to follow. He leads them into the back of the building, past the kitchen and the storage rooms, before he pushed open a door.

"Only room left. Two beds, nothing more," the man told them gruffly.

"That should be fine," Theo said, before he looked towards his companion, "You don't mind sharing, Alessia?"

She chuckled. The situation was eerily similar to a cold night and a shared tend in the outskirts of Windhelm. Legate Rikke, her superior at that time, had offered to share what little room she had with her. To this day Argella wasn't sure whether the woman had just done that so they would keep each other warm in that far too cold night or whether the woman had truly begun to show her matronly side to her favorite underling. The Legate had always been a bit hard to read when it comes to how she sees people.

"Alessia?"

She had been so lost in her fond memory that she had almost forgotten where she was now. The Tyrell knight looked at her questioningly, obviously curious about why she had spaced out all of a sudden.

"I… it's fine. It's not like we have to share a bed in there," she told him.

He nodded, "We take the room, Gil. Same price as usual?"

"When has it ever changed?" the old man replied sourly.

Theo gave the old man a sly smirk before he handed over some copper coins. "See you in the morning then, old man."

He entered the room, closely followed by Argella. The place was smaller than she had expected, but she was used to it. And even an uncomfortable bed was preferable if there was a door with a lock nearby. She doubted that Theo would try anything, and even if he did, she had no doubt that she could easily overpower him.

"You take the left one. It looks less dirty and flea-ridden," Theo said, as he sat down on the right bed.

"If you say so."

She knew he kept on watching her, as she removed her cloak and sword and placed them next to the bed. Always within her reach, just in case. Fighting a civil war had made her slightly paranoid. Not to mention her other war against a race of dragons that choose the most inopportune times to disturb her days.

"So, Alessia, why don't you tell me a bit about your Daedric master. This Sanguine guy," Theo began.

It still felt odd hearing her original name spoken this often. She had grown accustomed to the name of Princess Argella far quicker than she should have. Alessia seemed like a faraway dream… until she had to leave the Stormlands and Argella behind once more. Back and forth between two names, two different women. She already knew that it would be a headache to keep the two identities separate.

"Sanguine… He's a bastard," she replied simply. "That's pretty much the only word to describe him."

"Is it… wise to insult a godlike being so callously?"

She chuckled, "I've done worse to him. Last time I saw him I actually threw a fireball at his face. Missed him, sadly, but I would do it again any day."

"I could never do that to Lady Meridia. It would be as if I'm attacking the Maiden herself," Theo told her honestly. "She is such a force of good. So warm and gentle, I would never even consider acting against her."

"I'm pretty sure that the Septons would have you whipped for that comparison. The Daedra are more akin to monsters than gods. They are evil, scheming, self-serving creatures with no morals to speak of."

"Not Lady Meridia. Once you have met her, you will..."

"I don't mean to offend you, but I have no intention to meet your mistress. My life is complicated enough with Sanguine in it, no need to add another Daedra. It's bad enough as it is."

"Is he really that bad?" he frowned in disbelief. The only Daedra this young knight had ever met was arguably the most benevolent of the merry group of lunatics, but all of the others are quite… mad. Some more than others. She shuddered as she remembered that Sheogorath episode in Solitude…

"The first time I've met Sanguine he had disguised himself as a simple man. A traveler in an inn. He was… charming. We talked, we laughed, we drank all night. He even paid."

"Doesn't sound all that evil," Theo commented.

Argella shook her head, "That was just the beginning. The morning after the carousing, or at least the next morning I remember clearly, I was inside a temple. One of the priestesses was screaming bloody murder at me, cursing me for what I had done."

"Really?"

"Yes. Apparently, I had somehow desecrated a holy statue and puked all over an offering to their goddess," she laughed. In hindsight, it was pretty funny, even though that Dibella priestess would likely never forgive her. "From there on I had to retrace my steps to find out what has happened. Apparently, I had somehow married some random stranger in my alcohol clouded state. I had to follow a trail of chaos and mayhem, to find my supposed husband."

"So you are a married woman? Even despite the circumstances, holy matrimony isn't to be taken lightly and..."

"I am not married. It was all a ruse. A clever lie, told by one person and warped by every new set of ears that heard it. When I finally found my lucky husband, he turned out to be Sanguine himself. Truth is, watching me the struggle is his favorite pastime. That damn bastard. And all I got for the humiliation and trouble was his bloody staff. A useless trinket."

"That's unfortunate. The sword Lady Meridia has gifted me is quite the boon. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Just be glad that it was Meridia you first met. Had it been Clavicus Vile, you could have ended up with the sword Umbra, which is… let's just say you don't want Umbra and leave it at that. If only half of the stories about that weapon are true, it would have had horrendous consequences for this world."

He looked intrigued but refrained from asking more, as she yawned. Both of them were quite weary and the beds, dirty as they may be, looked very inviting. As he looked back over to her bed, he saw that she had already fallen asleep, still clad in her armor and all. He considered waking her, to offer her help with removing the heavy looking plate armor, but as he saw her serene sleeping face he decided against it. In the end, he didn't remove his armor either, as he lay down. It wasn't comfortable at all and he knew that he would feel it in the morning…

* * *

Argella woke up with a start. Her sleep had been restful and thankfully dreamless. But something had woken her up far earlier than needed. It was still dark outside. Far darker than it was when they had reached the inn…

"Not even one night?" she whispered furiously. "Next time I see Sanguine I will cut off his little staff and carve it into a rose."

Someone or something was at the door. She heard the scraping sounds from the wooden planks. It was faint, like that ominous groan that accompanied it. The last time she had heard these sounds, she had been in an ancient tomb filled with Draugr…

She got up from her bed and grabbed her sword and cloak. Maybe she was just paranoid, which she surely was, but if there are undead waiting at the other side of the door, they would have to escape quickly.

Theo was still sleeping, as she approached his bed. She placed her hand over his mouth, to keep him from making any loud noises while waking up. His eyes shot open as soon he felt the leather of her gloved hand, but he stilled when she motioned for him to be silent.

"Don't panic, but there might be one or more undead outside of our room," she whispered near his ear. "Get ready for a fight, but be quiet. Then follow my lead."

She removed her hand and moved towards the door. "LAAS YAH NIR" the Aura Whisper, her only softly spoken shout, revealed the world beyond the walls of the room to her. What she saw shocked her deeply. There wasn't just one undead, but at least a dozen rotting corpses outside the door and a dozen more outside the window and in each room to the left and right of her own. There were hundreds of them… Some even still underground.

Theo saw her pale expression and wide eyes and gave her a pleading expression that begged her to tell him what she had seen.

"We are surrounded."

"How many?" Theo asked.

"Too many for just the two of us. We have to get out of the inn, then we might have a fighting chance," she whispered back.

Her fighting chance was a giant fire-breathing lizard. She could only hope that Odahviing wasn't too far away at the moment, or they would have to try and outrun their enemies. Not a very easy task against an enemy that does not tire.

"Stay back, I will crush the wall to get us out of here," she warned the knight.

Theo looked confused at her, not quite sure how she would be able to crush a wall. When she pushed him behind her and unleashed the full might of the Thu'um. He jumped back in shock, as she destroyed half of the wall with a single shout.

"Seven hells, what was that?" He exclaimed in shock.

"Not yet, Theo. Run and fight," she shot back before she pulled her sword and rushed into the disorderly ranks of the undead outside.

The slashed their way through the undead horde, away from the inn itself and towards the nearby stables, but for every foe they cut down, three more seemed to escape the rundown inn.

"Where are all those walking corpses coming from?" Theo shouted as he ran after her.

It was a good question. She had no real answer for it, but a very bad feeling. People tend to get lost on the long roads. Bandits everywhere, a war every few years. No one would miss a few villagers and travelers. That begged the question, where is the master of this horde?

"There is no end to them, Theo. We need to get some horses and run," Argella yelled.

She would unleash Odahviing as soon as they are at a safe distance from the building. The dragon would have to annihilate it entirely.

"But what about old Gil? And the other guests?"

"There were no other guests. And Gil is most likely dead by now. All I've seen were undead."

"Seven hells," the knight cursed.

Their escape came to a halt when they arrived at the stables. But all the horses inside were dead. Half eaten horse corpses were littered on the ground and the dreadful smell of rot and decay filled the air.

"This is not good..." she muttered.

"Oh really? Haven't noticed," Theo replied breathlessly.

"OD AH VIING," she shouted. There was little choice. They would have to be careful to avoid the dragon's rage.

"Enough of this game! Come out, little morsels. The stables are completely surrounded," a mocking voice came from outside.

They had little choice. Another Aura Whisper revealed the undead horde waiting outside. They were truly surrounded. So they slowly left the stables. The army of the dead was watching them but didn't attack. But amongst their number stood one single black-robed figure.

"An impressive display of power, as one should expect from a Dragonborn," the necromancer said sweetly. "You would make a fine ally my dear. You need not perish here. Just kill that wretched Reachman and you shall be spared."

Argella laughed loudly, mockingly. "Never trust the word of a Necromancer. Your kind is deceit turned flesh." Oh, how she hates necromancers and those who dabble in the darkest arts. Wherever they go, they only sow chaos. Their very nature is twisted and destructive. Never, not even once, had there been one of their numbers who had not been a plague upon his own people.

The necromancer laughed maniacally, as he stepped towards them. Several of his undead minions followed him, while the majority of the horde stayed back. His black robes were shoddy and dirty, but his staff was quite magnificent. A golden rod adorned with skulls and bones, connected to one another by intricate chains.

"The dark master told me to await your arrival. All those years ago, he had foretold it," the necromancer said, "He gave me the power to prepare for your arrival, Dragonborn. For a price, I would hold the power to topple those foolish lords and kings who spat upon me."

"Another sob story about the wronged and reviled? Spare me and get on with it," Argella shouted back. "You are just scum."

The robed man chuckled darkly, "You will make a fine corpse in my collection, one the pestilence has ravaged your flesh."

Argella had the strong desire to set the fool on fire. Burn him until nothing but blighted ashes remain. But she had to wait, to stall. She needed Odahviing, or else the undead horde would tear her to shreds as soon as they escape the necromancer's control.

She looked over to Theo, who stood to her left. The young knight was shaking slightly but did not waver. It afforded him some respect from her, many others would have tried to flee, to run and hide. He stayed near her, hoping for a miracle. Or was there another reason? His eyes were wide, as he looked at one of the rotten corpses near the necromancer.

"Just a few more moments. We will get out of this, Theo, just trust me," she told him.

He didn't answer her, instead, he yelled at the necromancer. "Monster. That amulet, I have seen it before. Where have you stolen it?" He pointed his sword a small piece of jewelry that dangled from the neck of a corpse.

Argella had missed it at first. It didn't seem very important, but now that she had a longer look at it, it did look suspicious. It looked like something only a noble lady could afford. A friend of Theo? A lover or family member?

"Theo?"

"Remeber the girl I told you about? The inn keeper's daughter. That necklace was a gift to her from Prince Edmund. A sign of his love for her. I had been there when he had given it to her. I had been just a little boy, but the Prince wanted all of the realm to witness it."

"That treacherous prince. He came to steal her from me. I wouldn't allow him to have her. He would never have her!" the necromancer growled.

Theo grew even angrier as he realized who the necromancer really was. "Gil! How could you? I've come to this inn since I was old enough to travel with my father, never would I have believed you to be such a monster!"

"Times change. People gain power," the necromancer replied with a sickly sweet tone. "My master had need of a sacrifice, to prove my loyalty. Those twisted Dornishmen weren't enough."

"I will end you here and now, monster!"

Things were getting out of control. Argella could only pray to the Nine that Odahviing would show up very soon.

Then the situation exploded, as an unexpected sound echoed across the green hills around them. A hunting horn, followed by the heavy sound of many horses.

"More lambs for the slaughter," the necromancer laughed.

Argella cursed, as she saw the approaching riders. Two, maybe three dozen. A hunting party, led by some foolish noble. They had no idea what trouble they were about to run into.

But as the sun slowly rose over the distant hills, Theo recognized the banners that some of the riders carry.

"The royal banner. That has to be Prince Gawen's party, he is the only royal who takes the time to hunt in these troubled days," Theo muttered.

A prince… just her luck. Now she had the choice either to limit her use of magic and the Thu'um or be forced to explain herself to a damn prince of this realm… Screw that, Odahviing would come and everyone would be able to see the dragon… her dragon. So much for keeping her abilities a secret from the masses.

"Theo, no matter who you do, try to stay close to me. We will get out of this mess somehow," she told her companion. He nodded and waited for her to make her move. "And should anyone ask questions about this later, blame the gods."

She waited for another moment, until she heard the battle cries of the prince's men, as their horses crashed into the ranks of the undead. The necromancer was distracted for one small moment. Enough for her to get a chance. She charged at the man, her sword raised in one hand, a conjured fireball in the other.

She had to cut through a number of undead before she could reach the necromancer. But Theo beat her and reached him first, plunging his sword deep into the cursed man's belly.

"And you think this will save you, boy?" the necromancer laughed, as he looked at the weapon that was still stuck in his guts.

"No, but this will make my day so much brighter," Argella shot back, as she cut off the man's head with a swift strike.

She didn't linger for long and continued cutting her path through the undead. Theo followed her quickly, as they tried to reach the prince and his men.

"Your grace!" Theo called out to the prince, as they got closer.

"Tyrell! Seven hells, what are you doing here?" Prince Gawen shouted towards the young knight. The prince sounded oddly amused despite the horrible situation.

"Protecting the realm in your father's name, your grace."

"Good man," the prince replied. "Riders, to me! Send these horrors back into the long night!"

But suddenly the prince wavered, as a giant roar deafened all other sounds. Knights and undead alike turned towards the new threat, as Odahviing approached them.

"Stupid lizard, almost too late," Argella grumbled, as she watched her scaled companion burn the undead horde around them to cinders. It was always amazing to see how well the dragons can control their powers, or else Odahviing would have burned her and most of the other living humans as well.

The dragon circled three times above them before the majority of the undead were no more. The few monsters that remained were quickly dealt with by the surviving Knights. Only when all the undead were gone, Odahviing finally landed some distance away from Argella and the Prince's party.

"Steady now. Don't underestimate the dragon. If we stand together we can defeat even such a foe," the prince called out to his men.

"Stop!" Argella shouted, as she quickly ran in between the prince and the dragon. "The dragon is with me. He is not your enemy."

The prince and his men watched in utter disbelief, as Argella approached the dragon. Even as she spoke to Odahviing and placed her hand on his gigantic jaw, they still couldn't believe it. She even seemed to argue with the dragon! She was arguing with the animal as she would with a man. Seven hells...

"Who is that woman?" Prince Gawen asked.

"Her name is Alessia, she is a friend," Theo told his prince.

But Prince Gawen only frowned. A friend with a dragon? He didn't really like the implications of that.

"What is a Targaryen doing here, in our realm?" the prince demanded to know.

Theo was about to reply when Argella had returned from her short talk to her dragon. She removed her helmet and revealed her long black hair to the men.

"I am not a Targaryen, nor am I bound to any house. I am a mercenary, your grace," she said, as she bowed her head before the man.

The prince's expression changed, from cautious to intrigued. Everyone was on high alert once more, when Odahviing suddenly took to the sky once more and flew towards the horizon.

"Where is that dragon going?" the prince demanded.

"Who knows. He comes when I need him, but otherwise, he is a grumbling bastard. Knowing him, he is just looking for a sunny place for a nap, though."

"You sure are an odd one, Alessia," the prince muttered, as he studied her intently.

She met his gaze, not shying away even once. A challenge, a battle of wills. It amused them both.

But then the ground shook beneath them, causing the prince to nearly fall off his horse. Argella was hard pressed to remain on her feet, as Theo landed on his back. The smoldering remains of the nearby inn began to crumble, as another dark beast emerged from it. Another dragon, with scales as black as the night. But the beast wouldn't fight them. It took flight and escaped south.

"Another dragon! Not yours, I suppose," the prince cursed.

"No. Not mine," she agreed.

No, this was far worse. She remembered this dragon. Or rather, she remembered seeing a shrine with such a dragon, back in Cyrodiil. This wasn't a dragon. It was another Daedra… Peryite, the Prince of Pestilence… This was very bad...


	6. Chapter 6

Orys Baratheon had known that his mission would be a long and difficult one. He had been prepared for fights, for extortion, for death and sickness. What he had not anticipated was how quickly his patience would run out in the end.

After too many days in the green hell, he had managed to leave the gigantic forest and made his way further to the east. Many people had seen the dragon, which was a good thing, but none had seen it land anywhere.

He had to ride for days on end, without ever getting any closer to the elusive mercenary and her dragon. All he ever heard was that the dragon moved to the south-west. So he followed that trail. But the lack of real progress quickly annoyed him to no end.

Aegon would expect results, not immediately, but soon enough to change their plans accordingly. With all the preparations underway, it was only a matter of time before Aegon would begin his conquest. It was inevitable and in some way, Orys yearned for the fighting just as much as Aegon does. They were very alike in that regard, after all. But as long as this Alessia is on the loose, their entire invasion could be in jeopardy. The damage this one woman could possibly do… he didn't even want to imagine it.

It was in his third week in the after leaving Dragonstone, when he finally ran across some traveling merchant who had an interesting tale to share. A woman in strange armor had been seen at one of the farms from where he bought flesh and skins. A rich woman, a woman who had supposedly arrived on horseback and left on a dragon.

Orys found the farm easily. The story had spread far and wide and many people were quick to tell their own spin on the tale about the dragonrider and the farmer. The most interesting of those tales where the hushed whispers of the dragon princess. It was amusing to hear the speculations about the origin of the dragonrider, though Orys was quick to dismiss the idea of a princess riding a dragon. He had heard about the princess of the Stormlands. A spoiled little shit, Aegon's words, not his. His friend had felt insulted when King Argilac had offered him his daughter to form an alliance. There were other reasons for Aegon's refusal as well, but the undesirable Princess Argella did not sweeten the deal in any way. Orys had no doubts that such a girl could never survive the force of nature that is a dragon. Little did he know, though, that the rumors were not as wrong as he had believed.

The farmer was on his field, together with some of his older children, as Orys approached him. The man looked fearful but stood his ground none the less.

"Are you the farmer who has taken care of the dragon princess' horse?" Orys asked. He had called the rider a princess just to see how the man would react, but the way the farmer flinched and wouldn't meet his eyes was highly suspicious.

"Please, good ser, I have already told the king's other knights all I know. The princess just paid me to care for her horse when she left with her dragon. I don't know nothing about where she's now, I swear."

Orys watched the man closely, too stumped to reply immediately. Has this farmer just confirmed that the dragon rider is the princess of the Stormlands? The foolish little girl? And not just that, other knights of this realm are actively searching for her… This had to be some mistake. The smallfolk would call any woman in fancy armor or dress a princess. They just couldn't tell the difference.

"So the princess has not been here since you saw her last?" Orys queried.

"No, ser, we haven't seen her since," the farmer mumbled. He was obviously frightened of what Orys would do to him after this unsatisfactory answer. And judging by the black bruises on his arms, the other knights that had been here had not been very kind to the farmer.

"Rest easy, man, I'm not here to hurt you," Orys assured him, "But it is of utmost importance that I find the princess and her dragon."

"No one knows where she is, ser. We only heard rumors that she has fled Storm's End on her dragon and moved to the west. That's all I know, I swear."

Orys wanted to curse, but that would have like frightened the farmer so much that he would have turned into a shaking mess on the ground. If, and that was a very big if, if the dragon rider is truly the princess of the Stormlands, than she was definitely a threat to Aegon's plans. To think that one of the first kingdoms they would try to conquer would have a dragon rider of its own… Even three dragons against one, the damage to Aegon's plans would be considerable. He would win, of course, but at what cost?

"West you say," Orys mumbled. The farmer only nodded mutely, too afraid to speak. "I will have to continue my search then. Thank you for your time." He bid the man farewell and returned to his horse. But as he walked through the field, he could see the farmer's children watching him intently. All of them were dirty, which was not surprising for farm children, but some of them seemed bruised and otherwise hurt as if someone had beaten them. The children had kept their distance, just as afraid as the man. Whatever King Argilac's knights had done here, it had left a lasting impact. And that was worrying. If the king's men would do such a thing, this could only mean that there was more truth in the farmer's words than Orys was willing to believe.

* * *

By the time Argella and her newfound companions had found all the rotting corpses, the sun had risen high in the sky. They had thrown all the undead minions of the necromancer on one large pile, to burn them all at once. So much death and decay would only invite disease or worse, more idiots with dark ambitions. So when Argella began disposing of the corpses, Prince Gawen was quick to order his men to help her.

The task had been greater than anticipated and by the time they were done, the pile had risen almost twice her size. Hundreds of people, travelers, farmers, merchants, everyone who had stopped at the inn and seemed an easy target. The necromancer had been a patient man, building up his army slowly and in absolute secrecy. Sadly for him, mindless zombies are no real match for a fully grown dragon of Odahviing's power.

"What are you going to do now?" Theo Tyrell asked as he approached Alessia.

She wasn't so sure. She tried to come up with a plan, as she watched the pile burn, but her mind refused to yield the result she was looking for. Alessia knew that she had to hunt down Peryite. The Daedric Prince would only bring more death and destruction to this world, but at the same time, she knew that she was no real match for him. Even though the Prince of Pestilence is considered the weakest of his kin, he was still many times more powerful than a mortal, even if that mortal is a Dragonborn.

"I need to go south," Alessia replied, "I have to follow Peryite. He is too dangerous to be left unchecked."

"I..." Theo obviously wanted to say that he would follow her, but he couldn't. He had his duties, she had hers, "I need to go back to Highgarden. I am needed there."

Alessia nodded. She had expected as much. Another deadric champion would have been useful, even one as untrained and untried as Theo, but she would have to adapt. She always did.

"I will find you once I've dealt with this mess. Then we continue our talk about the Daedra," she promised before she walked away from the burning pile and towards one of the remaining horses. She already missed the powerful warhorse she had liberated from King Argilac's stables, but her abrupt escape from Storm's End had forced her to leave the strong animal behind. Such a shame. The mare she would be forced to use now was underfed and looked as if a strong wind could break her neck.

As she reached the horse, the reins were suddenly snatched from her. Prince Gawen stood there, in his silver armor, dented and dirty by the earlier blood work. His eyes, a light brown that seemed to shine golden in the right light, bore into hers.

"Is there anything you need of me, your grace?" she asked. The simple courtesies needed when speaking to royalty had been beaten into her long ago and both Legat Rikke and Queen Elisif would be proud to see their work had finally borne fruit.

"You will travel with us to Highgarden. My father will have to see you with his own eyes, else he wouldn't believe a word about this night," the prince replied, followed by an amused chuckle, "And it would be a shame to let a pretty flower out of my sight so soon."

Alessia wanted to scoff but refrained from any such disrespect. She had seen much more subtle attempt to lure her into a man's bed before, but she wouldn't have expected a prince to be the most obvious of them all. Then again, Prince Gawen was a rather good-looking man with a powerful name, he surely had no trouble getting what he wants from the more simple-minded maidens. Sadly for him, a Dragonborn is no simple maiden… neither is a princess of the Stormlands, she added almost as an afterthought.

"You have seen the monster, I need to pursue it, lest it will cause more chaos," she implored the prince.

But he remained unmoved, "The more reason for you to come with me. Together we will convince my father to assemble an army of the best knights in the realm to hunt down this foe."

"It is my task, your grace, your men would stand no chance!"

"And you would? Why is that, I wonder? Your dragon? Or is it your magic that makes you so special? Don't deny it, my pretty flower, I have seen plenty of your skills his night. You are more than meets the eye, but even so, one woman against this monster, that is hardly a fair fight." He moved closer than she was comfortable with and put his hand on her cheek, cradling it softly.

But Alessia wouldn't play his game. She swatted his arm away as if it was an annoying fly. The prince was lucky, though. Had he not worn his leather gloves, she would have punched him in the face. She had never like skin to skin contact with strangers, not since her childhood and those insipid nobles in the Imperial City with their wandering hands…

"I will take my leave now, your grace," she said, this time more forcefully.

Prince Gawen only laughed, though his eyes had hardened and his grip on the reins of the horse had only tightened. "You will come with us. I simply cannot allow you to roam this realm unchecked. From my point of view, I can't be sure who is more dangerous. That black dragon… or you."

"And you would bring me into your home, to your father, your king? Despite knowing my powers and that you would stand no chance against me?" she challenged. He was either overly confident in his own abilities or he was hiding something. She seriously hoped that he wasn't just some noble born moron like so many others she had met over the years.

"Are you an enemy of House Gardener?" he asked her directly.

Her father was one, she was pretty sure about that. Should Prince Gawen or any of his family find out that she is the daughter of Argilac Durrandon, they wouldn't treat her with any courtesy? As far as she knows, her father had just won a war against the Reach, killing Gawen's uncle, King Garse VII. Even with her dragon, Alessia would have a hard time escaping their castle unscathed. But she also knew that only a few people outside of Storm's End had seen Princess Argella before, so the chance that anyone would recognize her would be slim.

"I have no quarrel with your family," she replied cautiously.

"Then you will come with us. This is not negotiable. You wither come willing or I will have to force you."

She almost laughed, as she looked at him amusedly. The prince and his few men her wouldn't be able to force her to do anything. She had killed greater bands of Stormcloaks all on her own, so what chance would they stand? But she had to be careful as well. She was in no position to make any more powerful enemies. The Stormlands were already up in arms against her, no need to add the Reach to that list as well.

She sighed deeply, "This is a mistake. Losing Peryite now will only make things worse. But if you insist, I have no choice but to follow you to Highgarden."

Prince Gawen's mood brightened considerably, as he had obviously expected her to be more resistant to the idea. He even had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Excellent. Don't worry about the monster, something as big as that thing won't remain unnoticed for long," he assured her.

She wanted to point out that Peryite had already spent an unknown amount of time hiding in the Reach, but decided against it. It would be just another argument she couldn't win just because the prince was too stubborn to see her point. Alessia just shook her head and climbed her horse.

Gawen still stubbornly refused to hand over the reins, obviously suspecting her to attempt to flee. So he leads her over to the rest of the group, where Theo Tyrell was waiting with the surviving knights and servants.

"Onward, to Highgarden! And make haste, men," the prince announced loudly.

He handed the reins of Alessia's horse to Theo for a short moment, as he climbed atop his own horse. Then he took them back.

"Are you trying to keep me tied to you for the entire duration of our journey?" Alessia asked him, both amused and annoyed by the prince's actions.

He chuckled, as he looked at her. "I might consider releasing you, somewhere near Highgarden," he said. "Can't let my little flower run off without me now."

"You are only wasting your own time and energy here, prince, I already said that I would come with you, but you will do as you please."

He laughed again, clearly amused by her continued defiance. Alessia would humor him, for a while at least. Once they had reached Highgarden, she would find a way to leave without alienating the entire kingdom in the process. Until then, she would put up with him. Well, not all of his advances…

* * *

Highgarden was truly a sight to behold. Albeit not as grand as the Imperial City with its White-Gold-Tower, but compared to what she had seen in this world, it had to be the most beautiful castle in all the kingdoms.

Three rings of white stone surrounded the keep, each wall higher than the one before, as grand and majestic as only the great walls of the Imperial City had ever been. Towers, both large and squat and tall and round had been built to protect the keep from foreign invaders, as climbing roses and ivy-covered much of the white stone. Even from afar it was truly a sight to behold.

Alessia could barely keep her eyes off the keep, even as they rode through the many orchards that surround the castle, something that Prince Gawen noticed with obvious satisfaction.

"Behold Highgarden, home of House Gardener. For thousands of years my family has ruled the Reach from this castle, ever since our honored ancestor Garth the Gardener had made his home on top of the hill next to the river Mander," the prince exclaimed, "You will find no finer castle in all the lands, nor one with greater knights and songs."

"It has its charms," Alessia replied cautiously, "I'd like to see it all."

She was honest here, the castle did intrigue her. Especially as they passed through the gates of the first wall and passed through a giant briar labyrinth. People were frolicking and songs could be heard everywhere. Many singers seemed to be around, there to entertain the many highborn guests of the Gardener King.

"Oh my dear flower, I will show it all to you. Every room if need be to convince you to stay with us," the prince replied with a laugh, "Few people have witnessed the beauty of Highgarden and left of their own volition."

"Then there shall soon be one more," Alessia replied. "Duty waits for no one, not even those who can visit such a happy place."

As they passed the second wall, the green maze was replaced by busy streets and knights in shiny armors. Normal guards were there as well, all dressed in heavily ornamented armors, all adorned with the green hand of House Gardener. It seemed that the middle section of the castle was the place where most of the men in arms would be located, something that Alessia would remember for later.

But she also realized that with each wall they passed, her chance for escape, should it be needed, seemed more and more unlikely. By the time they would enter the center of the castle, only Odahviing would be able to free her, she was sure of it.

Then they passed the third wall. The heart of Highgarden was right before them. The main keep, with its many gardens, terraces, and gazebos. The entire castle here seemed to exist solely for the purpose of making its inhabitants happy. It was this kind of ostentatious luxury and disregard for dangers in the world outside that had always made Alessia hate the Imperial City, but just by the looks of it, Highgarden was even worse. Never would she have believed it to be possible.

And all the minstrels, the wine, and foods she saw, the entire place must look like the perfect world for a Daedra like Sanguine. Alessia could only hope that he wouldn't make an appearance, but deep down she knew that if there was a feast here, the Daedric Prince of debauchery would be here. And just from the looks of it, they had many feasts in this castle.

Prince Gawen's hunting party was soon greeted by another richly dressed man and a large host of guards and servants. Most of them stared at Alessia as if she was a dragon herself, with undisguised curiosity and wonder. Especially the one who lead them.

"The one at the center it Prince Edmund, heir to the throne and Prince Gawen's older brother," Theo provided next to her. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she had not even realized that he had approached her again, for the first time since Gawen had made it his personal duty to drag her to Highgarden.

"So one prince comes to greet the other," Alessia mumbled.

"They have always been close. The princes are only a year apart in age so they have done almost everything together," Theo replied, "Together they will bring a new golden age for the Reach."

So much pride, Alessia thought with worry. The young Tyrell was so blinded by his loyalty to his kings that their achievements became his pride. Such a wrong sense of loyalty had led many men to their deaths in the past. She herself had killed many Nords who had been utterly loyal to Ulfric Stormcloak, blind to the faults of their leader and the doom he was leading them towards.

"Brother, we had not expected you back so soon! It's been not even two weeks. Have the Red Mountains collapsed and frightened away all your game?" Prince Edmund asked loudly, as he approached his brother.

Gawen had been quick to jump out of his saddle and embrace his brother strongly.

"I bring bad news, Edmund. I must see father at once. Dark powers are at play and the Reach is in great danger," Gawen replied.

Edmund looked worriedly at his brother, before he answered, "Our king is currently with his council and will not see anyone at least until midday."

"I have to intrude then, this is important," Gawen said, as he pushed past his brother. But Edmund held him back, by grabbing his brother's arm.

"Don't, Gawen. Father will see you when he has the time. Whatever news you have, it will have to wait. You know how he is!"

"Aye, I know. But we can ill afford to waste time," Gawen growled. "So be it, but I will be the first to see him once he is free. Please keep those other sycophants and supplicants away from him until I've had a word with him."

"I will, brother, you have my word," Edmund replied. The older prince looked towards Alessia again, "But I see you've made a new friend. A woman in armor, how very odd."

Alessia had left her frail old horse behind at this point and stood back with Theo, watching the scene with keen eyes. Only when Gawen motioned for her to come closer, she approached the two princes. The eyes of every man in the courtyard were on her and she was sure that she had seen a number of archers on the walls and towers around knock their arrows. Good, they were not a foolish sort to allow an armed foreigner near the heirs of their king without making sure that they would be able to stop an attack.

"Ah, Alessia, let me introduce you to my brother. This is Prince Edmund Gardener, heir to Highgarden and the Reach," Gawen introduced, "Brother, this is Alessia, a mercenary with… exceptional skills."

She removed her helmet, as the prince regarded her with interest and inclined her head in respect. She wouldn't curtsy, she doesn't do curtsies. "Your grace, it is an honor."

"My, what a pretty one you have found," Edmund exclaimed. He had obviously misunderstood what Gawen had implied when he spoke of her exceptional skills.

"Careful, brother, this one can bite back," Gawen warned, "The armor and weapons are not just for show. Not to mention her pet dragon."

"Pet dragon?" Edmund asked, "Please tell me you didn't bring a Targaryen to our castle."

"I am not a Targaryen, your grace, I have no great family to speak of nor lingering loyalties to any of the great houses in the kingdoms," Alessia assured him.

The prince considered her words for a moment before he turned away. "Father will not be pleased by this, Gawen."

"I count on it," the prince replied cockily, "But once he hears the entire story he will thank me for bringing her here."

"I hope you know what you are doing, brother," Edmund sighed. "Regardless, I will have the servants prepare a guest room for her. And a bath, perhaps. She should better look her best when you introduce her to father."

"That would be a good idea," Gawen conceded.

Alessia herself didn't think much about it. A guest room was good, even though she had no plans to stay for long, at least one night of sleep in a good and safe bed would be welcome. And a bath even more.

"And maybe a dress, so she can join us for a small feast tonight," Gawen continued.

Edmund nodded, "Yes, that can be arranged."

"Excellent. I will see you later then, brother," Gawen said, as he watched Edmund depart.

The rest of the hunting party and the servants had long since disappeared, leaving Alessia alone with Gawen, Theo and a handful of guards at every exit of the courtyard. It had been a strange welcoming in this castle and Alessia could only wonder what would await her next.

* * *

King Mern of House Gardener, ninth of his name, watched with a deep frown as the people enjoyed the feast. He didn't feel like celebrating, but news of his younger son's victory over a horde of undead had spread quickly in the castle and many saw it as a feat worthy of celebration. Mern did not agree. If only half of Gawen's ridiculous tale was indeed true, the threat to the realm was not yet over. Yet here they were, celebrating like a bunch of foolish peacocks with not a worry in the world.

Then there was the other reason for his headache. The dragon rider his son had brought to Highgarden. Alessia… a mercenary with no ties to any great House. A convenient disguise… No, this woman was not what she claimed to be. Oh, he believed the tale of her skills in battle, he even believed that she could call a dragon to aid her in battle. Those fools on Dragonstone had three of these beasts at their command, so another dragon wasn't completely out of question. But her loyalty and agenda are what he questions.

"Are you alright, father? Are you feeling unwell?" Mern's eldest son and heir, Edmund, asked. The boy looked with obvious worry at his father. Such a good son, unproven yet, but with the obvious eye for details. His three other sons lacked this attention, Gawen most of all.

"When you look at the woman your brother is dragging around to dance with, what do you see, Edmund?"

The prince watched his brother and the mercenary for some moments. She had cleaned up remarkably well. Bathed, dressed and groomed she could almost pass for a highborn lady. In fact, she did move with a certain grace and poise that a lowborn mercenary should not possess.

"She is not… what I would expect from a mercenary. Not just because she is a woman, but she seems to be right at home at a feast like this," Edmund commented. "And Gawen seems a bit too enthralled by her beauty. People will start to talk."

"Your brother is a fool. Too easily swayed by a pretty face. It is a weakness you once shared, Edmund."

"Yes, father," Edmund replied, albeit with obvious bitterness.

But Mern did not care about his son's feelings. The boy had done the right thing in the end, he had given up on his foolish notion of romance and married a girl of good stock, even providing an heir of his own already. If only Gawen would show the same dedication to his duties.

"This woman is an enemy in our midst."

"An enemy, father?" Edmund asked, alarmed by this. He was obviously worried for Gawen's safety.

"Only yesterday I received word from our spies in Storm's End. The messenger had ridden day and night and killed two horses to bring us this information quickly. King Argilac and his spawn, the Princess Argella, are at odds. More than that, there had been a fight in front of many witnesses. The princess against Argilac's dog."

"If I remember correctly, Argella Durradon is a useless wench with no skills to speak off."

"So we have been told," Mern agreed, "But the princess won her fight. With magic and sword."

Edmund paled as he heard this, his eyes quickly finding the mercenary and his brother again. A woman fighting with magic and sword, what are the odds…

"There is more. Argilac wanted his daughter imprisoned. He believed that she might be trying to depose him. And that is where things got interesting. She was saved... by a dragon. I hadn't believed our spy at first, but now that your brother has brought us another dragon rider, things make more sense."

"So Princess Argella is working with the Targaryens to depose her father?" Edmund concluded, "They are the only ones who could have given her such a beast. There are no other dragons left in our world. But why is she here, then? Maybe her plans have failed and she is seeking refuge from her father's vengeance."

"That is one of the questions I want to be answered," the king growled.

"I will have arrested once the feast is over. We will find out what the Durrandon spawn is doing here."

"No!" the king said imperiously.

"Father?" Edmund asked, obviously confused.

"We will play her game for the time being. But we will keep a close eye on Princess Argella. Her presence might just as well be a boon for us, but until we know for sure, we will watch her closely."

"Shall I inform Gawen of this?"

The king pondered this for some time, his eyes following the princess of the Storm Lands and his son. "No. Only you and my most trusted councilors know about this yet. Let Gawen entertain and distract her. He shall even take her to his bed if he wants, but I will have my answers."

"And if she kills Gawen because we didn't warn him?" Edmund asked. His son sounded slightly angry by this decision. The worry for his brother's well being was clouding his mind if only a little.

"Should your brother died by her sword or magic, we will have our answer as well," Mern replied. "We will speak no more of this tonight. Go and mingle with your guests."

"As you wish, father," Edmund replied.

The boy wasn't happy, but that wasn't the king's priority here. For the good of the realm, they would do whatever is necessary. He wouldn't be blinded by rage or lust for vengeance. Argilac may have killed his brother Garse, but Mern wouldn't throw away a good opportunity just for the sake of petty revenge. It was just as he had said, Princess Argella might be both a gift and a blight, they would just have to find out what she was here for.


End file.
